Three-heart Monte
by Sinmora
Summary: When a scared and pregnant girl named Emma appears in Storybrooke, Mayor Regina Mills offers her care and money in exchange for helping secure the next mayoral election. Developing real feelings for the orphan had never been the plan, neither had falling in love, and Regina struggles with the ultimate test of the heart when Emma's past causes a betrayal not even Emma expected.
1. Storybrooke

Hello, my sweet sweet doves. Taking another break from my series again to let my imagination run free. As always, reviews, comments, song suggestions, and constructive criticism are appreciated.

Also, I've actually set up a twitter account. The handle thingy is AmberwritesWV. It's not terribly SQ-centric, but you can keep up with my original stuffs if you so wish.

Enjoy! Kiss kiss

Song: Ocean by Lauren Aquilina

* * *

 _ **Act I**_

It smelled funny.

Even through the windows and the stale cigarette smoke lingering on the man across the aisle who had felt the need to offer parenting advice with his corn dog breath, the metallic tang of fish permeated every molecule of oxygen on the stuffy bus... and Christmas. A fishy Christmas provided by the Balsam Fir trees thick on either side of the road and the ocean somewhere to her right. Green eyes, the color of the sea just before a storm, shifted towards the window at her left, apprehensive of the descending darkness. She'd yearned for wilderness, she hadn't expected this. Storybrooke, Maine, just sounded like a cute, small town with one street running through the entire city limits and a green and white "unincorporated" sign at either side. They'd passed through another smaller town nearly 45 minutes ago, and kept moving. Emma had forgotten the name the instant she realized she'd not reached her destination. She'd hoped to arrive before dusk, find a place to bunk down for the night. Surely, a town like Storybrooke wouldn't have an all-night diner, she was on her own. But… he wouldn't find her here.

No one would find her here.

She sighed and shifted in her seat, trying to find any relief for her aching back. A strand of blonde hair tumbled into her face, and she tucked it back inside the grey hood of the jacket zipped around her swelling belly. A trembling hand touched it, jerked away from the popped belly button. No use showing affection to something she knew never belonged to her, in possession or privilege. The last person on earth who needed a child was her.

"How far are ya?" A gruff female voice asked.

Emma raised her eyes, absorbing the long beige stockings, green wool skirt, and floral print shirt beneath a cream-colored sweater of the grandmotherly figure studying her with intelligent eyes behind thick square glasses and a hard, leathered face. Probably lived in Maine her entire life with skin permanently burned like that from the wind. Emma had stared at the tight bun of grey hair in the seat in front of corn dog breath for almost an hour after leaving the city. She seemed harmless, just a nosy old woman returning from her trip to the city.

"What do you care?" Pulling her shoulder bag over her belly, she fixed her eyes on the dark silhouettes and shadows of firs and maples. The old woman grunted, but nothing further followed. Emma released the stagnant air from her chest slowly. Any attention was bad. She'd made it this far by becoming unnoticeable, unmemorable in every way possible.

A sharp kick from within reminded Emma that everyone noticed her. Pregnant women always attracted unwanted attention. Another shimmy, a foot appeared through her shirt. "What the hell? Are you mutating in there, you freakin' gremlin?"

Her voice cracked, and that desolate forest called her attention again. She knew the problem. The baby hadn't eaten in over 24 hours because she hadn't eaten in over 24 hours. Tree after shadow slipped by, only figures blurred in the darkness, abstract but meaningful to Emma. The trees looked like her soul, and she hated them. The moment something made sense, she moved past it, blurring it into a black, constantly-mutating shape. She closed her eyes and gripped the cold leather handle of the knife inside the front pocket of her bag.

"Girl," that same gruff voice scraped across her ear.

Emma came to life. The woman barely flinched at the sharp metal tip against her round belly. A grey brow raised. Fists punched into a surprisingly slim waist for such a buxom figure. "Storybrooke," the old woman said, chin jutting toward the window. She turned and waddled away before Emma even glanced at the dim lights on a wet street.

She'd fallen asleep.

"If you want a hot meal, come find Granny's Diner." The woman gazed at her over the front seat, two steps off the bus. "It's on Granny."

"Who the fuck is Granny?"

The woman smiled, her wrinkles relaxing into tiny grins across her face, and then disappeared with everyone else who hadn't left themselves vulnerable on a bus full of perfect strangers. Emma tucked the knife away and dropped her head into her hands, blonde hair tangling around shaking fingers. Hunger not fear vibrated in her hands.

"End of the line, sister. I'd like to go home and have dinner with my wife if you don't mind getting the hell off my bus." A man with dark hair and a nasty leer stared at her in the mirror. The name on his dark blue shirt read "Leroy."

"You actually talked a woman into having sex with you more than once?"

"Smart ass, get the hell off my bus before I toss you off."

"Alright, Shorty, chill. Don't pop a freaking limb. God knows you can't afford to lose an inch." The dwarf glared at her but said nothing else as she waddled to the front of the bus. The doors slammed shut and left her with only a puff of warm exhaust as protection against the chill of wet wind whipping off the ocean.

Crickets and peep frogs chirped and chattered noisily. Even the animals behaved funny in Maine. She'd never heard them in the middle of town before, on the small farm where one of her foster families lived but not in Boston. Emma exhaled a stream of white breath and pulled the hood of her thin jacket tighter around her cheeks. Now that she knew where she was, she felt lost. The street yielded nothing, the harsh gusts of frozen air slapping at her hair offered even less. It was exactly as she imagined, a sleepy hamlet with retirees and young families where nothing stayed open after 8pm. A gust of wind blew the hood from her head, burned her eyes with a salty mist. She tucked into a store front and jerked the scraggily protection back into place.

The child in her belly kicked again, raising holy hell in protest of Emma's hunger strike. Her chin quivered, and she wrapped shivering arms thick with goosebumps around the bump and curled her body as best she could. "Please stop, Gremlin. I know, okay. I know you're hungry. I'm freakin' hungry. I'm doing the best I can," she whispered, allowing just one moment of weakness. One lonely, frigid moment in a wet street with icy wind tearing at her cheeks. Who the hell came to Maine in the middle of October without a home? The little life within quieted, and Emma gave her weight to the wall behind her, lightheaded. The red brick scratched her scalp, almost soothing as she tipped her head towards the black clouds above. A preamble of cold droplets spotted her face, hiding the tears and their warmth.

"Okay." Deep breaths puffed and streamed through the dark rain soaking her clothes. She glanced around again, still nothing to indicate what direction she needed. "Okay."

"Are you lost?"

Emma whipped towards the soft, friendly voice. Everyone in this town seemed so damn friendly, all two of them. A young girl, maybe 15, stood beneath a large umbrella. Big, innocent brown eyes gazed up at her. Straight black hair with a bright red stripe fell over thin shoulders covered by a black long sleeve shirt with holes in the wrists for her thumbs and some form of a broken heart in neon green across her barely-there breasts. Black pants with buckles and loops and chains and bright red streaks hugged her waist and nothing else, falling loosely around her thighs and calves. Around her shoulders hung a heavy red cape to match her hair and pants. Goth girl with a big heart.

"You gotta be shitting me," Emma muttered. Could this town be more cliché?

"What?" The girl leaned towards her, and Emma pressed further into the corner, not realizing until then the trap she'd put herself in.

"Granny's?" Emma asked. Her throat constricted with fear. She needed to eat. Maybe the old bag left her money vulnerable.

"Oh! I'm heading there now. I'm trying to get back before Granny's bus comes in." She offered to share her umbrella, and Emma accepted without touching her. The rain pelted one shoulder, but it was better than getting dumped on and touching this brainless assistant in her time of need.

"Just call me Dorothy."

"What?"

"Nothing. You missed the bus, kid, I got off it ten minutes ago."

"Shit," the girl swore and then glanced around as though she'd done something wrong. Emma smirked. She liked the girl, no matter how hard she tried to remain indifferent. Big, doe-eyes raised to hers, blush on her cheeks visible even in the dark. "Granny says I live in the clouds. I'm late for everything. I'm Ruby, by the way. Ruby Lucas."

"Emma."

Ruby slipped her arm through Emma's and tucked in close. She grinned bashfully. She'd probably never had a friend her entire life. Emma empathized and allowed the girl to pretend for just a minute that Emma could ease her loneliness. "Is that why you have red streaks in your hair?"

"Oh, uhh, no." Ruby's face fell. "My dad, they called him The Wolf. He was kind of a big deal around here. He killed my mom five years ago. I got away. No one really talks to me, so I dress up like Little Red Riding Hood." Ruby shifted, tensing to pull away from Emma's arm.

Emma touched her hand to keep her close. "You just dive right in head first without looking, don't you?"

"No point hiding the truth."

"Just don't let it define you," Emma offered her measly life advice she'd learned the hard way in her miserable 19 years of existence.

"It doesn't, but it is the only thing people see when they look at me. Granny says they're all fools, which is why they keep coming back to the diner." Ruby smirked, and Emma never asked what exact retaliation Granny took on their food. She seemed like a lady to take no shit and give no fucks.

"Does everyone call her Granny?"

"Yeah, for the most part, except Mayor Mills, but she's actually my grandmother, my mom's mom. Regina calls her by her name, but I think she likes Granny better."

"Regina?"

"Mayor Mills. She just took office when everything happened with my parents,"Ruby explained, not even flinching at the rush of pain that particular statement yanked from her subconscious and into her already bleeding heart.

Emma shivered, teeth clattering. Ruby dropped her arm and swooped her thick cape over her new friend's shoulder, leaving her hand there. She smelled like cinnamon and fryer grease, an odd combination for a girl of her age. Her touch, however, soaked into Emma's shoulder. The girl carried a gentle energy, unobtrusive and sweet despite her tragedy… maybe in spite of it. It took a strong will to walk around playing the part of Red Riding Hood when she knew everyone associated it with her father's misdeeds. On one hand, Emma admired that. On the other, befriending the little rebel attracted unwanted attention. She needed to lay low until the birth of the gremlin and then get the fuck out of town.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Ruby stopped walking, forcing Emma to stop or leave the warmth of their shared heat. The bump between them rubbed the girl's belly, and Ruby studied it for a long moment before finally turning her eyes up to Emma's again. "Why are you in Storybrooke? Tourist season is over, and you don't look like you're here to see the leaves anyway."

"Some people wear their truths like a cape, and others run like hell until they can't see them anymore." Emma held the gaze. Wind whipped around them, stinging their exposed cheeks.

Ruby ducked her head against the bite of the weather and the weight of Emma's words. "Granny's is just around the corner."

And it was. Ruby shook off her umbrella and tossed it into the porcelain holder at the door. All eyes turned towards the howling wind that swept two shivering girls into the warmth of the diner. Sweet apple pie and cinnamon surrounded Emma, much nicer than the salt and seaweed through a bus window. Ruby's odd scent suddenly made sense. She probably worked here on the weekends.

Disregarding the gawking stares pointed at her and Ruby, Emma absorbed the feeling of the diner. Maroon booths, some sort of grey forest scene with wolves papered the walls – gaudy but somehow appropriate given the information Ruby gave her about her father. They both told the town of Storybrooke to go fuck itself sideways with a banana.

"Ruby Lucas, where the hell you get off to this time?" Granny scratched from the kitchen door.

"The cemetery," Ruby mumbled, finding the grey linoleum extremely fascinating. She pulled the string at her throat and hung the heavy cape on an old brass coat rack. Emma notice then how thin and fragile the younger girl actually was. How had she carried that thick piece of fabric?

"What did I tell you about strays? They might be dangerous." Granny fixed Emma with a glare, and the defiant woman struggled to maintain the eye contact. Yes, okay, she'd technically pulled a knife on her, but wasn't going to hurt anyone unless they hurt her first.

"Thought you brought this one home, Old Woman," Emma snarked, aiming to get a rise. What she got was a collective gasp from the entire room. Apparently no one spoke to Granny Lucas in such a manner. The old woman herself never actually reacted, but an understanding passed between them as Emma stubbornly held the proving stare.

It fell apart when a woman with dark, smoky eyes and ruby red lips leaned around a man in a dark blue suit to study this abrasive stranger. Even at the booth farthest from the door, Emma saw the fire in those dark eyes. She swallowed audibly with no spit to lubricate the action. The woman might have been the most gorgeous creature she ever set her eyes on in this world.

"That's Mayor Mills," Ruby whispered, her shoulder touching Emma's. "Don't say anything, just come with me."

"Why?"

"Long or short version?"

"Short as possible."

"She's a bitch." No embarrassment or blush followed the curse, the first hint of the anger Ruby concealed with sweet smiles and kind words.

Emma held those dark eyes, even as Ruby tugged her towards the bar. They dropped to the speckled pink and gold dots on the otherwise white counter when the girl grabbing at her dropped her arm and made a beeline for the far end. Granny wrapped an arm around her and led her into the kitchen.

"Have you eaten today?" She asked her granddaughter.

"Yes." A pointed look. "Not much." A raised eyebrow. "No."

Granny harrumphed and then looked over her shoulder. "Don't drip on anything. I got your food on the grill."

"What if I'm allergic to it?"

"You got allergies?"

Emma smirked. "No, but I could."

A tiny sliver of a smile quirked the old woman's lips. "Then shut your damn fool mouth," she snapped and disappeared into the kitchen.

Through the round window at the top of the door, Emma watched the two exchange words without hearing them. A waitress bumped through the door with her hips. Granny pulled at the sleeve of Ruby's shirt. _Womp. Scrape._ Ruby wrenched her hand away. _Womp. Scrape._ Granny held the girl close with one stout arm as Ruby cried into her shoulder, the other held a bloody, shredded wrist from their clothes. _Womp. Scrape._ The door lost adequate momentum to show Emma what happened next, but she assumed Granny dealt with this on a regular basis. Why had she left her granddaughter unattended anyway? What could have been that important to leave a mentally ill child alone? Why has she invited her for a hot meal after having a knife poked against her belly?

Emma glanced over her right shoulder, calculating the distance between her and the only known exit. She might have run, but where in a town this small could she possibly have gone? The kitchen always had a door for deliveries and smoke breaks if she needed to bolt. The thought settled her nerves, but the fresh and heady energy of another human being against her left side raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

"Hello, Miss…" A dark, raspy voice slid down her spine and ignited a slow burn in her belly.

Emma swallowed again, instinctively sensing who spoke to her. Only one voice could have that amount of pretention and predation, and it hadn't belonged to the female dockworker still in overalls and rubber boots in the front booth. Excitement flipped and churned in her stomach simultaneous to the apprehension gripping her chest. No one of status or import had ever paid any attention to her, but the goal of avoiding attention fell flat on its face. She'd stepped onto Storybrooke's fishy Christmas street less than half hour prior and already caught the eye of probably the most influential person within its limits. On an exhale, she raised her eyes to the light brown of Mayor Mills. Inhaling, the woman surrounded her – the citrus tang of expensive perfume, beautiful light brown eyes that weren't as dark as she'd originally thought across the room. A dark caramel maybe, buckskin, a wonderful mix of primal and human. She knew those eyes, recognized the hauntings behind them, seen that expression often enough in the mirror in her own greyish green. The mayor obviously wanted people to believe in her persona as Bitch Royale, but that look… Emma wore that look and sold it with scathing insults to keep everything at a distance, including her own emotions.

Everyone noticed actions, no one looked at the eyes.

"What's your name?" The mayor snapped.

"Emma."

"Just Emma, like Cher without any talent or fashion sense? Speak, girl."

"I'm not sure Cher has any fashion sense, either. Have you seen her clothes recently?"

Immaculate fingernails dug into a slim waist covered in a silk shirt. She tried desperately to hide her feminine curves with the blazer pushed back by her forearm. Though appropriately sized for a public figure, the mayor's curvaceous body better suited the image of an actress or a ditsy secretary than a politician. Blood red nails attached to those fingers snapped in Emma's face, slapping her back to reality. She needed to sleep before she completely lost all of her senses. "What is your name?"

"Look, Lady, I'm just trying to eat. Step the fuck off."

Mayor Mills scoffed in disbelief. Emma fought desperately to hide a smirk. The dining room quieted behind them, tongues still while eyes greedily drank from the cup of humiliation Emma served the haughty woman harassing her.

"Storybrooke has strict vagrant laws. If you intend to sleep beneath the docks, save me the hassle of retrieving your corpse from the incoming tides. The last headache I need is the news of a pregnant, homeless child freezing to death in my town."

Emma laughed and finally turned fully towards the mayor, letting her get a good, long look at her bulging belly. "Election year, is it?"

Red crept from beneath the V of her shirt and slowly eclipsed her face. Emma watched in fascination, tripping on the high of getting under the powerful woman's skin. Not many people stood up to her bully tactics, Emma decided, and it thrilled her. What did she care? She'd not be here long.

"Sydney!" The woman scraped, struggling to keep her voice from rising in pitch. Those beautiful eyes darkened with the changing of her emotions, and Emma held them defiantly, not willing to succumb to another bully. Never again would she be a victim. "Call Sheriff Hunter." The man in the dark blue suit slipped a hand into his jacket.

Emma stood. "Fine. I'll go. This place smells funny anyway." If she had to go, she'd damn well do it on her terms. The mayor gave her no ground, forcing her big bump to rub against her flat stomach in order to free herself physically from the situation.

She'd barely slipped from between the stools when a gruff voice stopped her. "You'll do no such thing. Regina, Miss Swan has paid for a room in full until the end of the week." A round plump form pushed between them, forcing the raging woman to step back.

"Swan? Really?"

"Don't much matter what her name is, her money spends the same," Granny berated her for the condescension.

A sliver of defiance and indignity swelled in Emma's chest at being defended. The scent of Bengay and powder soothed it when Mayor Mills took another step back and clasped her elegant fingers in front of her hips. A nervous tick perhaps? Whatever just transpired, Emma understood that two opposing forces fought for dominance in Storybrooke, and she'd managed to fall into the ranks of the blue collar grandma who challenged the oppressive high class. Maybe an ally in the old woman and her mentally unstable granddaughter gave her the break she needed. She didn't mind being a pawn in a power struggle if it got the thing in her belly a good home when it decided to come out.

Mayor Mills smiled sweetly, showing only a few seconds of insecurity before the mask slid into place. She was good, Emma gave her that much. And that smile, damn if that smile ever occurred in a genuine moment of happiness… "Welcome to Storybrooke, Miss Swan. Please enjoy your stay." Emma snapped to focus, reminding herself where she was and what was happening. Regina stepped past Granny in obnoxiously high heels, black stilettoes. Focus Swan.

She touched Granny's arm, leaning close. "If you have to bill the mayor's office, feel free to do so if an extra bar of soap findS its way to Miss Swan's room. Can't have your guests overpowering the scent of your delicious apple pie, can we?" The skin around her eyes tightened with one last glance at the delinquent, fake smile never wavering. "She's your responsibility, Elizabeth. Any impropriety will fall on your house, understand? After the mess your daughter created…"

"Get out of my diner," Granny snapped, losing her temper for the first time since the showdown.

Regina smiled again. This smile looked cruel and ugly despite the perfect teeth and symmetrical features. Ruby appeared at the kitchen door with her gentle energy and surveyed the room, concerned with her grandmother's rarely raised voice. The mayor never noticed the entrance and disappeared into the stormy darkness with her lapdog nipping at her heels. Ruby set a plate of grilled chicken, steamed broccoli, and brown rice in front of Emma. Granny squeezed her shoulder Like she'd known her more than a day and waddled toward the kitchen.

"I came up with your name," Ruby confided, whispering in conspiracy and very proud of her quick thinking. "I hope it's okay." Aaand the insecurity returned with a vengeance. "You just remind me of Odette from The Swan Princess."

"The what?" Her nose wrinkled as she lowered herself back onto the stool. Dinner smelled amazing, and her stomach growled at her hesitance to rip into it.

"It's a movie. You've never seen it?" The girl asked over her shoulder where she filled a mug with steaming water, flabbergasted at the thought. Emma shook her head. Ruby tossed a teabag into the water and placed it at the top right corner of her plate, staring at the swirling steam instead of Emma's face. She fidgeted with her arm where a bump of gauze rose beneath the sleeve. It probably itched and stung from being cleaned.

"Do you want to watch it with me tonight?" She asked, her voice much younger than her teenage years. She already braced for rejection. The tone of the question practically mocked her already tortured soul.

Emma rolled her eyes, more at the fact that she actually felt the urge to help the pathetic creature than at the girl herself. "Sure," Emma agreed before completely considering the ramifications of becoming emotionally entangled with the haunted, lonely girl.

Ruby smiled. Emma almost returned it as she ducked her head and picked up the fork to the left of her plate. Granny grunted by the kitchen door and allowed the moment to happen. If Ruby failed to connect with the defensive, blonde stranger, no one in that backward town stood a chance.


	2. Regina

Here ye be, Lovelies! Also, for those asking for a twitter account to pick apart all my weird and random thoughts in 165 characters or less… the handle is AmberwritesWV and my pen name Amber Bennett.

Thanks for the follows and reviews. I'm not going to be insane and post a chapter a day like usual because I'm working 80 hours a week at the moment and working on original stuffs so my grad school adviser doesn't get creative with ways to get away with my murder.

Enjoy!

Song: Holding out for a Hero by Ella Mae Bowen

* * *

Regina inhaled deeply once more, eyes closing with the action. Her campaign manager prattled on and on, more politician than she. Loud cologne wafted into her face as he passed in front of her desk. She swallowed a gag and pressed the middle and forefinger of each hand into her temples. No wonder the poor man destroyed every relationship he attempted; his scent singed all of their brain cells, leaving nothing but mindless bimbos with crispy grey matter. Had he even bothered to buy more than one suit or just seven of the same color and style? He might have been attractive as a younger man, with his dark skin and athletic physique. She'd felt his arms and they absolutely atoned for the pock-marked cheeks.

"Regina, are you listening?"

"No," she answered honestly, not bothering to cover the irritation in her raspy voice.

He laid his hands flat on the cool marble of her desktop and leaned forward, about to divulge a secret but no one else occupied her office, rarely ever had. It was her sanctuary. All meetings took place in a conference room down the hall. Only Sydney and her loyal and very quiet secretary ever breached the elegant double doors that shielded her from the rest of the world, always leaving behind the aroma of whatever scent he'd decided to douse upon his body that day. They hardly lived up to the rumors of wild quickies during strategy meetings. She only tolerated him as a person and employee because he tolerated her and proved invaluable regarding public relations.

"Regina, this girl, as much as you would like to rip out her spine and beat her with it, could be the extra push you need to get back on top in the polls. She's obviously homeless and in need of a little charity," he pleaded his case once more.

"I've already donated a considerable amount of my own money to the convent and the extracurricular activities committee at the high school. I've met my charity quota for the season." She pushed back from the desk and raised her knee over the other smooth thigh, partially to escape the oppressive scent and mostly because he made her feel trapped when he became physically aggressive. He'd never deign to lay a finger on her, but the threat still lingered in her mind. She cleared her throat, bounced her eyes from one dark hand to the other before hitting his gaze head-on. He pushed his boundaries, and she slapped him down as she always had. "I'm the reason our horrid marching band has new uniforms in time for the Founder's Day parade."

Sydney took the hint and straightened his spine, crossing his arms. "You know as well as I that donating money will never get you where you need to be. People want to know the personal details. Human interest stories are very big right now. Show her some compassion, pay her medical bills. Anything to prove that you're not soulless, though we both might make a different case."

"Perhaps opening a women's crisis center would achieve the same results," she suggested. Anything would have done. Anything to avoid those observant green eyes that made her heart flutter. Emma Swan came from an entirely different walk of life, the type of life that attracted her – a gypsy existence of anonymity. The type of life that nearly caused a scandal so big in her family that Regina ran 1000 miles away where no one could possibly ever have evoked such feelings in her again. That hadn't been the case when she reached Storybrooke nearly 10 years prior, and since then, she'd kept her heart locked away, an untouchable, unyielding black dot in a crystalline tomb where no woman might ever warm it again.

Yet, here she was, brazen and beautiful and clearly staying for a while.

"Do you honestly think you can successfully complete such a feat in less than a month? Elections are five weeks away."

Regina clicked her tongue, but the sound lacked its usual bite and condescension. She hated him when he used logic he knew she couldn't combat with grand ideas. An idealist, he called her. Pressing fingers into her left temple again, she conceded, "How do you propose I convince this cretin to accept my assistance?"

Sydney smiled and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, satisfied that he'd worn the stubborn woman down after three days of pestering. "You might actually have to be nice."

"Because I've honed such a talent."

"You might even like it."

Regina chuckled. "I sincerely doubt the plausibility of that statement, Mr. Glass."

"We'll see," he murmured over his shoulder, quieter than the door closing behind him.

And that conversation, after clearing her head of his horrible scent and swallowing a couple pills for good measures, brought her into the cold, soggy October day where she wrung her hands and adjusted her scarf a dozen times at the head of the walk that led to Granny's. She exercised no patience for people. That very reason kept Sydney on retainer year round to run interference between her and the masses. Everyone knew her the best candidate for the job, but unfortunately, political elections looked more and more like a high school vote for prom queen and king every year. The most popular won, and in a pageant, she very much knew her shortcomings. Never mind that she'd singlehandedly taken a town at risk of bankruptcy and turned it into a thriving tourist and fishing community, reduced unemployment from 5.6 percent to only 2.1by planting and harvesting a thriving apple orchard. Of course, the profit came back to her, but she donated it to the city-funded programs the original meager budget couldn't support until the town got its feet beneath it once more.

Only image mattered, and the vagabond herself might have won if that were the case.

She wasn't soulless. She wasn't. Ignorant of many social cues and confounded by human emotion in general, absolutely, but she felt sad and lonely and guilty and love. Couldn't a human being feel without being made to express it openly? During her entire childhood, her mother berated her tendency to notice details and objects more than people. _'Behave as everyone else, dear, or you will be punished. Gestation periods of larvae are not appropriate dinner conversation. Try not to be an embarrassment tonight if you can manage such a task.'_ Her mother's voice raked across her heart, reminding her why she needed Emma Swan. Failure hurt worse than rejection. It wasn't her fault if everything looked different, sounded different, smelled different than it should have, but losing the election fell on her conscience. She needed to win or watch everything she'd worked for swirl and gurgle down the drain.

Squaring her shoulders, Regina locked down the most pleasant expression manageable and marched up the walk. A few weeks of tolerating the little tramp in exchange for maintaining the hard work she'd put into her town seemed a fair bargain, especially with sweet Astrid, nun-turned-councilwoman, and wise Spencer, savvy financial manager, running against her. The quaint little bell jingled. Her heart bristled up like a porcupine at the jolly sound, but she almost felt certain her face remained relaxed. She thought it had. If it hadn't, the warmth and comforting cinnamon-filled air certainly helped it reach that level of humanity in only a moment. She actually loved Granny's, no matter how often she cursed the food and the woman who created it. That establishment embodied everything she tried to erect during her reign – community, friendship, strength.

She only imagined herself as the center of that community, but saving the town from ruin simply hadn't been enough.

Instead, she'd been reduced to skulking back to Granny's with her tail tucked to make nice with the little trollop who should have been tossed into jail the night she arrived. Not even Elizabeth's scrumptious apple pie made that go down with any sort of pleasantness. The old woman studied her from behind the counter, the other eye on the young woman sweeping the floor and bouncing to a beat flowing from the earbuds stuck in her head.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, Madame Mayor?" Granny asked. Every single word dripped with sarcasm and a tinge of sadness. They'd been close once. She'd taken Regina in as one of her strays nearly ten years ago, freshly out of college and running from the demons her family created. Not quite the drowned rat as Emma Swan, Granny still provided the much-needed maternal guidance she desperately sought. Her trust fund gave her everything else with plenty to spare. She'd played with Ruby as a clumsy five-year-old tripping behind her like the little sister she'd never had, big brown eyes full of wonder. Maybe she should have stepped up when Ruby's mother had been killed instead of distancing herself to save her political career. Too late now.

Emma sensed the sudden tension in the previously empty diner and pulled a bud from her ear, awaiting the answer to the question she'd not heard. Regina readjusted her shoulders. She'd become accustomed to the feeling of being unwanted. She preferred it after a few years, realizing how easily she protected herself when she stopped trying and people stopped caring.

"I've come to inquire about Miss Swan's health," she explained. Not exactly misleading.

"Peachy keen, your majesty," Emma answered with a sweeping bow that looked more like a retarded duck trying to pluck a feather with her belly rubbing her thighs. Regina almost smiled at the positively ridiculous display.

"I wasn't aware I'd ascended to royalty." Maybe she could do this. That almost sounded like a joke. Somehow, Emma's devil-may-care attitude evoked an urge to verbally spar with the quick-witted tramp. The surprise and confusion that came flying from the older and younger woman told her that she'd successfully practiced levity… or at least enough to show she tried.

Emma laughed first and leaned against the broom handle. "Mayor Tight Tits has a sense of humor. Who knew?"

Regina raised an eyebrow at the new title and sat at a stool at the end of the bar nearest the door. "I've been dethroned already?" Her heart fluttered as the girl poked and wiggled, planting her roots in barren soil. Regina swatted the fanciful organ with blood red nails.

Rather than smile, the skin around Emma's eyes tightened. "What the hell do you want? I know you didn't come to make corny jokes, so just get it over with." The kid read people well, Regina gave her that much.

A muscle in her neck jumped, but she held Emma's suspicious gaze. "I've come to inquire about your health."

"Right," Emma muttered and shoved the earbud back into her ear.

Regina glanced helplessly at Granny who shrugged and returned to swiping the counter with a wet towel. Rather than address the rejection, the mayor opened her purse and removed a platinum card. Plastic snapped on the counter, and a stormy green eye shot towards her, confirming her suspicion that Emma actually listened to nothing. She stood without meeting the girl's gaze. "There is a 5,000 dollar limit on that card. I'd like to assist with your medical bills and any other expense you may acquire during your stay. We started on bad terms, and I'd like to correct the trajectory of our relationship, Miss Swan."

"So, you're not above buying people?"

"I'm buying nothing. I'm offering assistance without expectation. I meant what I said about finding your frozen body. Yes, it is an election year, but I'd much rather your child receive the care you've obviously never had." Regina almost felt bad for saying all the right trigger words to worm into the young woman's mind. Her mother taught her very few skills, but manipulating people definitely developed early and with bulging veins. The act itself, however, generally left a chalky residue on her tongue.

"What the hell do you know about me? I can take care of myself." Chin raised in fake bravado, Emma dared the pretentious woman to contradict the declaration.

"I have no doubt," Regina agreed. She really hadn't doubted Emma's ability. The girl obviously possessed street smarts and a resilient spirit, the two most essential attributes of a survivor when they had no financial means. "Consider my offer."

Those calculating green eyes studied her, sized up the situation, ran a risk analysis of trusting her. Regina held her purse strap in front of her hips with both hands and waited. They'd reached a stalemate. Regina knew she wanted to accept, but no one ever gave anything for free, except maybe Granny. Emma pulled the wire at her throat, dislodging both earbuds, and leaned on her broom again.

"So, you help me and I pretend to like you so that everyone else will? Is that the game you're playing?"

Granny grunted in amusement. Regina certainly picked the wrong girl to dupe into a political race. Emma revealed very little about her past, but the wisdom in her eyes spoke of a life filled with one bad situation after another. Regina had that same hardness in her eyes when she'd first arrived. It became loneliness over time. Now, those brown eyes looked to hers once more for guidance. She nodded once, throwing the socially inept woman a bone. Tell the truth, the only way to Emma's trust.

"You aren't even required to like me," Regina gave up the ruse.

"If I accept, I want to stay here. Is a room covered in this agreement?" Regina inclined her head.

"Money is no object, Miss Swan. Consider your demands carefully and call me." She pulled a business card from her purse and laid it atop the plastic. "My offer expires at noon tomorrow. If the true nature of our relationship leaves this room, my offer expires. If I discover you've ingested anything beyond proper food while pregnant, my offer expires and you will be indicted for child endangerment. Am I clear?"

"Yeah. Hurry the hell up, don't tell anyone, and don't get stoned or shitfaced. Got it, your highness."

"Elegantly stated." Regina rolled her eyes at the deep bow that followed. A part of her hoped Emma refused simply to remain distanced from the young woman. Her entire nature set Regina's on edge. The closest Storybrooke came to a delinquent was Ruby, and everyone knew her heart too big and pure to actually harm anyone. If she stole, no doubt the victim would find a teary-eyed Little Red at their doorstep returning every single item within an hour.

"Should you be working during this stage of your pregnancy? Will exertion harm the baby?" A swell of genuine concern slipped into the withered cracks of Regina's cold heart, warming her chest from the inside. Caramel eyes caressed Emma's belly, something she'd never experience though she adored children. They were innocent and quick to hug – and honest, so very honest. With a swallow and flush of embarrassment, Regina raised her eyes, already feeling that turbulent green gaze picking apart the unplanned and uncalculated reaction of actually appreciating Emma's condition, maybe even envying it.

"You're not required to like me either, Madame Mayor," she snapped, more uncomfortable with the attention than who gave it. The softness in Regina's eyes smoldered, ignited.

Emma watched her leave without preamble and glanced at Granny. The old woman shrugged. "Girl's always run out without saying goodbye."

"What's her deal, anyway?"

Granny waddled away, and Emma increased the distance by crossing to the door. Her forehead touched the clammy glass, the uncomfortable clench of guilt in her belly. Steam jumped up, receded, jumped again from her shallow breaths. Regina braced against the cold wind, arms crossed tightly, and Emma watched until she turned the corner toward Town Hall. At the last second, she glanced over her shoulder and caught Emma's gaze through the glass, like she'd felt those green eyes upon her back. Emma touched the window with three fingertips. Had she actually attempted to show genuine compassion and concern only to be spurned by someone who already rubbed her the wrong way? What thoughts banged around behind that soulless façade? Everyone had a story, and no one acted that way because they'd never experienced pain. People eventually became who they pretended to be, but Emma had never met someone who acted so callous who wasn't protecting a deeply emotional soul. A puff of wind blew black hair over her eyes, and the fussy woman tossed it away before putting her head down and charging back to the safety of her office.

"Hold my calls, Stacy." The quiet reflection in her voice caused the young woman's head to raise from whatever budget report she fixed before sending it on to her boss. Regina never held her calls, not even raging like gasoline on a hot fire in a swift wind.

"Ma'am?"

Regina strode past without explanation and locked herself behind the large white double doors. The leather purse thumped where she tossed it on the table to the far right of the door. The light switch remained untouched, leaving the shadows of the coming storm to wiggle and dance over the white and black marble floors. Strange, the place she'd designed to feel cold and unrepentant should be the warmest to her, the most comfortable. She'd meant to remind herself to rule without emotion, to make the hard decisions that brought uproars from the rabble for the betterment of the community, like when she'd spent half their budget planting an orchard that nearly a tenth of the city worked now. They misunderstood her methods, criticized her with every signature, and reaped the benefits of her foresight and wisdom. The youngest mayor ever appointed in Storybrooke's history, she'd created her own legacy, void of her family's filthy fingers and influence.

Why must she also be kind?

Because masses lacked the wisdom to know that leading was difficult.

Regina sighed and sank into the plush, black leather of her well-worn chair. It'd taken nearly a year to break the damn thing in to her specifications. Now, the padding lumped in funny directions and the wheels caught sometimes, nearly tipping her out if she pushed back from the desk too quickly. Perhaps she'd reward herself with another once she dominated the election. Fingers pale from the cold touched the marble top on the massive wooden desk, loving each scratch and divot made from years of laborious hours hunched over budget reports, committee requests, and meeting minutes to ensure each person had been heard with an equal amount of attention and care.

She'd been reduced to practically begging a perfect stranger to take her money to seal her seat for the next term. She hated politics, that's why she'd come to the smallest town possible as far from her family as the sun to the moon. She'd avoided them by carefully staying away from the news and social media, hiding like a common criminal.

"Madame Mayor?" Stacy's soft voice eased through the intercom on her phone.

Irritated, she punched the button with her thumb. "What part of hold my calls did you not understand, Ms. Cochran?"

A long pause. "I was wondering if you needed anything else before I go home. It's 5:30, Ma'am."

Regina twisted her wrist and glanced at her watch. Two hours had passed since she returned. "Damn it." She'd done nothing. "Apologies, Stacy. There will be nothing else. Thank you."

Another long pause. "Are you okay, Mayor Mills?" She'd always been such a quiet worker, punctual and efficient. Regina couldn't remember if she'd ever given her a day off or even a stupid pen for Christmas.

"That will be all, Stacy," Regina repeated, avoiding the question. "Please leave the budget report on your desk. I'll be working from home this evening."

"Yes, Ma'am. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She released the button, punched it again. "Stacy, would you care to accompany me for lunch tomorrow?" The words bunched together, and Regina wondered if she even understood them.

"Is there a lunch meeting I missed, Ma'am? I'm so sorry, I synced our PDA's. I'm not sure how…"

"Stacy." She'd not missed a meeting or appointment date and time in three years, not since the first and last time. "I was inviting you to have lunch with me. A personal lunch."

"Oh." Silence. Scratching of Stacy shifting in her chair. "Are you alright, Mayor Mills?"

"Forget it. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Ms. Cochran."

"Goodnight, Ma'am."

Rejection stung, and Regina angrily tugged her skirt and blazer in place, shoved files and folders and loose papers into her shoulder bag beside her unopened laptop. No one wanted to spend more time with her than required, so why force their hands. Stacy managed to look genuinely guilty when she stomped out of her office. The anxious redhead extended the budget report file with a shaking hand, and Regina snatched it away to add to the never-ending pile of paperwork. She said nothing else just watched her boss practically run away from her. Regina had always been kind to her, paid her a fair salary with regular raises, but they'd never crossed the professional boundary into friendship. Stacy's family preferred it that way and only allowed her to have the job in the first place was because it was the highest paying general labor position in Storybrooke.

Regina glared at the storm approaching, black thunderheads looming and rolling. A growl rumbled in the distance. Even the weather hated her this year, fussing and grouching well past the appropriate month. Surely, there were other towns where she might have made an impact, but she loved Storybrooke. She almost gave herself to the urge to cry, gripping the steering wheel of her Mercedes. She'd not give any of them the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

If they wanted a raging bitch, she'd sure as hell send the monsters under their beds scampering. The likelihood of Enma accepting her offer dimmed with each passing minute, her last hope of securing another term. She'd never have admitted it to Sydney, but his idea produced the only thin sliver of hope she'd seen since Astrid joined the race. She made a mental note to cancel that card at noon. Maybe report it as stolen, save herself the hassle of running the defiant child out of town. She certainly wasn't the only runaway to find her way to Storybrooke, but only Emma Swan looked her directly in the eye, challenged her authority instead of breaking like a rotten tree in a squall.

By the time Regina hit the stoop of the mayoral mansion on Mifflin Street, full outrage at the newcomer eclipsed every thought in her mind. Who was she to defy her? Who was she to demand when she offered her far more than anyone else in her life? The door of the microwave slammed, encasing the frozen meal for one.

Pre-cooked chicken alfredo, she almost threw it out and ordered a pizza. A longing gaze fell over her dark kitchen, unused since the day she moved into the gigantic house. Of all the things she missed most, eating with other people etched into the first slot of the stone sarcophagus around her shriveled heart. She dwelled for only a moment and then left the space untouched and opened her laptop on a large red oak desk and organized her files in the few minutes required to heat the food-like substance.

She poured a glass of Pinot Noir, brought the bottle into her home office along with the cardboard box holding the gelled gunk intended for ingestion. A typical night in the Mills mansion. Two pages into Stacy's budget corrections and a glass of wine later, the hunger for human contact dissipated. Work always soothed the ache, numbers made sense.

Two glasses in, the black blazer found itself on the back of her chair. Half of the third opened all of the buttons down her stomach for better ventilation of the artificial warmth alcohol created. She drained the last maroon drops into the stained glass and set the bottle carefully beside the empty food carton, unsure of the control she still possessed over her motor skills.

Only a swallow remained. Two stilettos clattered onto the hardwood floor. The screen blurred in and out of focus. Regina stood on wobbly legs and retrieved her phone. 'Stacy, please move all morning appointments to afternoon.' Satisfied she'd not misspelled any of the words in the text, she sent it and staggered to the kitchen for another bottle.


	3. Deal

Thank you for all the reviews and follows. This is far different from my usual bag in terms of SQ, but I decided to give my original story style and my fanfiction style a swing. To answer one of the reviews, yes, this will be a non-magical AU.

Here ye be, my darlings. Enjoy!

Song: Broken Windows by David Cook

* * *

Terrible idea.

Regina Mills became well-acquainted with the dreaded hangover many years ago, considered it her only friend most days, but no one in her right mind chased two bottles of wine with scotch and expected anything resembling affability. Pinching at the throb behind her eyes with no alleviation of the pressure, she allowed her mind a moment to adjust to reality. Chimes banged and clattered, the culprit of her harsh awakening. Confusion scratched through the haze. No one had visited her house since the first month of her residency. Granny made lasagna that night, taught her the secret recipe, the only night she'd used the damn kitchen.

If not for her churning stomach, she'd have laughed at the first thought that barreled into her mind. Of course, that old woman permeated her entire life whether she wanted her there or not.

Still, who had the guts to ring her doorbell? Perhaps she'd missed a disaster in town the previous night, slept through the phone calls in a drunken stupor. Where had she left her phone? Two uncoordinated arms reached in either direction, finding the sharp edge of a table and cool, plush leather. She'd fallen asleep on the sofa in her office. Harsh light bashed the inside of her skull, and she squeezed the bloodshot organs closed with a tiny whimper. Persistent knocking forced them open again.

"Someone better be dead," she vowed, her voice deeper and scratchier than usual. It used to vibrate her throat so smoothly – that was before she drank herself sleepy every night for years.

The abrasive banging recommenced as she stepped off the last step leading to the foyer and wrenched the heavy wood open mid-knock to find a startled Emma Swan on the other side, arm still poised by her head. "What?"

"Sweet shit on a cracker, what the hell happened to you?"

Regina closed her eyes, holding a palm on the door frame for balance. She'd not once considered her appearance between her office and the front door. Now, the crisp morning air perked her nipples beneath nothing but a camisole and silk bra, excited goosebumps down her arms and bare legs. It had to be this child to find her in such a state. Where the hell was Sydney when she needed his obtrusive presence?

"And you're worried about me getting shitfaced?"

"Speak your purpose, Miss Swan. I'd prefer to look upon your face briefly this morning."

"You'd have to actually open your eyes for that," Emma blurted, winced, reset her battle stance as those caramel eyes glared at her from the tiny slits Regina allowed. "I brought your card back," she explained quickly and held up an envelope.

Regina smacked the package into the palm of her hand and slammed the door as Emma drew breath to say something else. She had no time or patience for games or insults that morning. Blind, she stumbled up the five stairs leading to the foyer, dropped the card on the hardwood, felt her way up the stairs. Her body knew this path, especially in this mental state. Stacy had covered for her for years. She owed the quiet redhead a deep gratitude that she felt but rarely showed. Brown eyes cracked wide enough to snag the aspirin waiting on the corner of her nightstand. Grateful the chill of night kept the water in her pipes cool, she swallowed the pills and splashed her pale face.

The shower warmed just enough to cool her body without shocking her system, relaxing her instantly beneath the powerful jets massaging her weary flesh. Both hands pressed to cool porcelain behind the stream, the water beat the back of her bowed head and shoulders until the world began making sense once more. She needed to stop drinking. A thousand mornings saw this same argument inside her mind, and a thousand nights saw the ravishment of another stash she'd promised not to touch. Reluctantly, she abandoned the safety of the soothing water, avoiding the mirror at all costs as she toweled off and slipped into a kimono. The flimsy fabric stuck and stuttered over damp skin, cooling and then warming pleasantly beneath wet hair barely long enough to touch the back of her neck.

The first hint of something awry in her home came with the scent of coffee hitting her stomach when her foot touched the hardwood of her foyer. The second came in the form of an, "Ouch! Damn it!" in her kitchen. Bare feet slapped at the floor, announcing her arrival. A demon possessed her, angry and foaming at the mouth.

The sight of Emma Swan making scrambled eggs at her stove tossed glacial water atop the now steaming creature. A fresh grease stain splotched her old gray jacket, probably too thin to make any difference against the heavy gusts off the coast. The hot oil must have caused her to cry out a moment earlier. She'd clearly gotten over the plight quickly.

"Hey," Emma said, not bothering to explain her presence. She scraped the eggs onto a plate and poured a cup of coffee. "Seriously, you need to get some real food in this house. I had to borrow eggs and bread from Ms. Ginger across the street." Toast popped. Emma caught it with one hand and replaced the carafe onto the hotplate with the other. She grinned, proud of her finesse. Regina rolled her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Making you breakfast," Emma explained, not even slightly frazzled by the band of death energy wafting from Regina.

"I'm quite capable of feeding myself."

"Yeah, your freezer meals took the morning off." Emma tossed the plate with buttered toast and scrambled eggs onto the island and wiped her hands on the towel that hadn't moved from the oven door in over a year.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You have been nothing but rude and antagonistic since the moment you arrived like a fog of trailer trash stench that refuses to air out."

"I've been rude? I'm sorry, majesty, who the fuck threatened to have me arrested after five minutes? Fuck me, no wonder no one wants to be around you. I'm trying to do something nice. Maybe they're right. Ya know, I thought if I extended an olive branch, you'd at least give me some slack, but fine, whatever, I've learned my lesson. You can't melt the ice around someone's soul when there's nothing in the center." Emma pushed past the stunned woman, charged for the front door, stopped.

"I came here this morning to tell you that I was going to take you up on your offer, but I didn't want to carry around your fucking card. I'm glad I got to see the real you before I did something stupid." Tugging the thin hood of her old grey jacket over her head, Emma braved the chilly Maine morning, more confused by Regina. Nothing the mayor did or said added up to make a cohesive personality, just bits and pieces of an incomplete soul possibly more lost than she.

She picked her way through the unusually crowded streets of Storybrooke, growing more irritable with each person who smiled and offered a tiny flag to wave around like an idiot. Of course she rolled into town the week of a fucking festival. Small towns freaking loved festivals. They probably had an apple festival during harvest season. And a fish festival during peak tourist season, but a straight-up crab festival for the town before the start of the tourist infestation. One to celebrate the perfect pitcher of lemonade and another for the best chili in the fall. The jubilant energy poked and prodded the thick wall of negativity surrounding Emma. Regina's hangover was going to love all the noise. A sliver of sick satisfaction wormed into her chest, and Emma snickered. The stuck-up woman wasn't as badass as she wanted everyone to believe. She just needed to find the trigger to get her to crumble and chill the fuck out. Why did she even care? She cared about Regina for the same reason she cared about everyone; she valued their lives over her own. It's how she ended up pregnant, broke and homeless. She'd already sold her soul to the devil and accepted that role. If she couldn't save herself, she'd damn well give her all to save others.

Some people, though, were as damaged and damned as she, and her inability to differentiate that from someone like Ruby frustrated her. She wasn't the only person in the world who couldn't be saved.

Happily, she stepped into the protection of the diner, where the insanity – in her mind and the town – stopped and reality resumed. Granny grunted as she entered. Only two customers lingered from the breakfast rush, but none of them paid her any attention, already used to her bulk waddling around the dining room. Ruby looked up from a notebook and smiled. Of course, the schools had closed in celebration of the town holiday. Emma closed the door against the noisy drums and flat brass of a high school marching band and slumped against it.

"Tell me again what Founder's Day is," she sniped.

"It's a town holiday to celebrate the day Storybrooke was founded and officially became a chartered town," Ruby explained, almost robotically, and returned her eyes to the notebook. Ah yes, tourists probably asked about it because they saw it on a brochure, though no one in their right mind would be here on vacation at the time of the event.

"Shiny," Emma grumbled and wandered to the younger girl. Leaning forearms on two thin shoulders, she peeked at the notebook. "Whatcha writing?"

"It's a daily journal Dr. Hopper makes me keep. He's my therapist. I usually write in school," she confessed, whispering in conspiracy, shifty brown eyes on Granny's back.

"I heard that, Ruby Lucas, and you better keep your grades up." That woman had wolf hearing and psychic visions.

Emma grinned down as Ruby looked up. Giggles erupted the second their eyes met. Granny glanced over her shoulder, glasses lowered. The girls laughed harder. Emma collapsed onto the stool next to her friend and leaned back against the counter. The old woman harrumphed, hands punched to a buxom waist. Even if she'd been steaming mad, hearing and seeing Ruby laugh again would have cooled that rage. It'd been so very long, before her mother died, even. She should have taken custody sooner. The remaining table tossed amused looks at the teenagers as they paid. Granny shooed them out the door and then parked her hip against the counter just across from her girls, patiently enduring the petering laughs.

"Oh!" Emma grabbed her belly. "What the hell are you doing, Gremlin?"

"Is it moving? Can I feel it?"

Big brown eyes pleaded with her better judgement. She wasn't supposed to get attached to the damn thing, or Ruby and Granny for that matter. Eyes rolling, Emma snagged her hand and pressed it against the dancing fetus. Ruby gasped, eyes bouncing from Emma's to Granny's and back to the magical belly moving beneath her palm. A wide, bright smile grew on her lips, and Emma hated that she loved being the cause of it. She liked Ruby. It just made things more difficult.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

Emma shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. It's not like I'm keeping it."

"What? You have to keep it!"

"No," Emma pushed to her feet, "I don't." She grabbed the plates from the table that just left and disappeared into the kitchen, running from the thing she refused to deal with like always.

"But…"

"That's enough, Ruby Elizabeth," Granny snapped, ending the protest before it started. "It's not our place to say what Emma should and shouldn't do with her child."

"But, Granny, Emma would be a great mom."

"Be that as it may, sometimes letting go is the best choice. I know you're old enough to understand that."

When Ruby burst into tears, Emma ground her teeth and gripped the edge of the stainless steel island in the center of the kitchen. "I hope I'm never old enough to understand. I hope I'm never old enough to stop fighting for the people I love, like you and Regina!" She pushed the door open in time to see Ruby shove Granny away, her thin body barely balanced enough for the task.

"Ruby…"

"No, you don't get it! You didn't fight for mom when dad was beating the shit out of her every day, or me when he started on me. You didn't fight for Regina when she left, you wouldn't even let me see her, and she never fought for us. She was like a second mom to me and she just left!" Ruby bolted for the back stairs, not even noticing Emma through the tears blurring her vision.

"I didn't know it would upset her so much," Emma apologized.

"It's not you. That girl has taken fits over everything the past five years. She had a meltdown a few weeks ago because I served peach pie as a special instead of apple one evening. Archie, Dr. Hopper, calls it emotional disregulation from the trauma, though he's beginning to suspect something else."

"Like what?"

"Bipolar Disorder. I don't know much about it, but… Anyway." The old woman clammed up her own need to purge the difficult emotions caused by Ruby's condition and steeled herself for the task at hand.

"Was her father…?"

"He was," Granny snapped before the question finished. "Wouldn't take his damn medicine." Ugly, bitter, anger. Emma fought the palpable energy, it wasn't directed at her.

"I'm sorry she has to go through that. Ruby deserves better." Too close, Swan. You're too close. But it was too late, she was in it now. She needed to get the hell out of this town. What the hell had she been thinking?

Granny smiled sadly at the poor girl, glad someone else saw how special her granddaughter was. "Yes, she does." Old grey eyes turned towards the back stairs, burdened with sadness and the grief she must shoulder alone. "Mistakes were made with Ruby, but she's strong, she'll find her way."

"Must run in the family."

Granny shot a sardonic eye at the compliment, grateful not for the first time that Emma accepted their situation with such ease. She'd been good for Ruby, and for her too if she gave credit where it was due… in the dark of her locked bedroom… far away from anyone who might tell the smug teen how much she liked her. "Go on, girl. Get this place cleaned up and zip your sweet-talking mouth."

"Yes, ma'am." Emma's tone earned another sharp look before Granny shuffled away to comfort Ruby. Curiosity brought two fingers to the composition notebook left behind. The pads touched it, jerked away with a sizzle. Ruby should have meant nothing to her. Reading her most private thoughts should have come easily.

"The girl's a bit dramatic, isn't she?" The accented voice slid over her soul like a sweet balm. It sounded rougher than the last time they'd spoken, like she transformed her smooth British lilt into Australian overnight. She'd not even heard the bell rattle. The realization spread a sweet grin on her lips, she'd taught her well. She turned slowly and crossed her arms over sore breasts, much bigger than the last time they'd met.

"How'd you find me?"

"Doesn't matter. If I did, he certainly can."

"Don't play with me, Dr. French."

The other woman shifted uncomfortably, but no one else occupied the space. No one knew her identity, though they'd never recognize her now. Blonde hair now a dark reddish brown, big blue eyes covered with green contacts. "Dr. French is dead, and I'm not staying here but you need to. I covered your electronic tracks and he's grounded for the time being."

Emma smirked. "How exactly did you ground him?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets, but someone did clean out his bank account and set up a siphon program linked to the National Bank of America. Point 1 percent of every deposit adds up very quickly."

"Sneaky bitch. So, what should I call you now if you're not going by your real name?"

The woman shrugged and opened the door, her mission complete. "My last name is French and my favorite princess was always Belle."

"Well, thank you, Belle. I might actually get some sleep tonight." Sleep. She'd done little more than doze for the past seven months since the creature began growing inside of her.

"You're safe for now, Emma. Stay here, have your baby. I'll assist any way I can. If you need me, you can leave a message with Pigeon. I'm not far."

"Why are you helping me? I kidnapped you."

Belle glanced at Emma's rounded belly. "I owe you." And then she disappeared as quickly as she'd come… on a day when no one blinked at an extra face in the crowd. Surely, surrounding towns came to enjoy the carnival festivities. Sneaky, sneaky bitch.

Before Emma took two steps towards the kitchen to grab the broom, the bell jingled again, slammed. Only one person entered with such audacity. "What the hell? Is this grand fucking central today?"

"What?" Regina snapped. Her face carried genuine confusion, and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Nothing, just something one of my foster moms used to say when people wouldn't stop calling." Regina absorbed the new information, visibly tucking it into a corner in her mind for later analysis. Emma cursed under breath. At this rate, everyone knew her tragic past within a week. Pregnancy hormones made her soft and sloppy. Instead of addressing it, she widened her stance and prepared for battle. "What do you want, her most royal pain in my ass?"

"Had you truly intended to accept my offer?" Regina always got straight to the point. Emma appreciated that, never could small talk very well.

Emma shrugged, hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans. "Granny said you're a good mayor, and no one else running would make much of a difference. You're not wrong. This kid needs stuff that I can't buy it. I just don't want to carry a card with your name on it in case you changed your mind. I don't trust you. Though I'm not sure I want a drunk in office because of me either, so I'm just going to figure it out on my own."

"I'm not a drunk, dear." Regina stalked behind the counter like she owned the damn place and poured coffee into the largest foam cup available. "I'm a socialite. A vice is not merely expected, it's a lifestyle." A five materialized from her purse and set neatly on the counter.

"Rich. Poor. Guess everyone is trying to escape this shitty world." They really weren't that different, Emma thought, not for the first time.

Regina hummed in agreement and sipped the coffee, not bothering to face her again. Emma waited. Whatever happened within the mayor the moment she saw her at the stove changed everything, changed something at least. No one had ever taken care of her, Emma theorized. She knew that feeling. It's why she wanted to stay with Granny. That woman, gruff and uncouth as she was, offered more love than an entire congregation of Aphrodite's followers – Ruby, too. She'd never tell them, but they made her feel safe for the first time in her life, solidified by Dr… Belle's protection from the outside world.

"Did you always want to be a politician?"

Finally, Regina turned, just to the side. Guarded caramel eyes squinted, always calculating. "There's a talented obstetrician in Camden. I'll call for an appointment this morning. The distance is inconvenient, but our bus runs there every day, twice a day. I expect you to make your appointments."

"Why can't I just see one in town?"

"Small towns are not renowned for premium medical staff, Miss Swan. They'll do for the common cold and emergencies, but I'd prefer the child be provided the best this area can offer. Christina will drive to Storybrooke when the time comes. Stacy, my assistant, can provide you with the appointment details and directions later today."

"What makes you so sure I'm going to take your offer after this morning?"

They locked stares again over the black plastic cap on the cup. Emma forgot about being bossed around by the snotty mayor. _You're safe._ Belle's words bounced around her brain. She'd never felt safe before, but Granny made it impossible to feel unloved. With him behind bars or on the run, she truly was safe. A thin, perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised, succeeding in her silent effort to make Emma feel stupid for the continued façade.

The girl changed tactics, uncomfortable with Regina reading her so well. "How do you know so much about this? The only research you did last night was on the endurance of your liver."

"Good morning, Miss Swan." She refilled the cup. "Do be prompt in the retrieval of your assignments."

"I don't work for you, and you're money isn't nearly good enough to make me want to, especially when I have other options now." Belle had offered without actually offering, but she'd also told her to sit tight in Storybrooke until the storm calmed in her own world. Regina needn't know the details.

"This is a business arrangement. Do you expect me to hold your hand and reward you with lollipops for good behavior?"

"Only if you spank me and let me call you 'mommy.'" Regina's eyes shot open, red lips parted in a slight gasp. Emma chuckled, happy to be firmly beneath the mayor's skin where she belonged. Someone needed to keep this woman in check, and it amused her to do just that.

"I have agreed to honor your side of this arrangement. If you have specific demands, decide them quickly. I'll be in my office until noon, which means you have two hours. I have several last minute preparations for this evening's activities and haven't the time to coddle your sensitivities." Regina breezed by, mayor mask in place despite the fact they both knew she still felt like shit from her night of drunken shenanigans. Her energy pressed into Emma's shoulder when she halted and leaned toward her ear. "I do, however, draw the line at spanking children. I much prefer adults for such activities."

Two secret smirks, hidden and wiped away in a moment.

"Wait. That's it?" Regina set a hand on the door knob and allowed for elaboration, left red marks upon black as she sipped coffee. "Do you have multiple personalities? Because you sounded like you wanted to call this whole thing off 20 minutes ago."

"Miss Swan, you broke into my house. Did you honestly expect a welcoming reaction?" Emma nibbled her lower lip. No, from that perspective, she'd have been pissed, too. "Though pure in intention, do not repeat the gesture if you wish to remain free of criminal charges during your stay." The bell jangled.

"I want you to drive me to my appointments," Emma blurted the masochistic demand before she even thought about it.

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to drive me to my appointments. All of them."

Steam may have actually blown from the older woman's ears. "It's 25 minutes both ways."

"It's an hour by bus."

"Why on earth would you want to spend that much time with me in a small space? As you so elegantly stated earlier, no one wants to be trapped in a car with me, so do us both a favor and grow up."

"I want to stay at Granny's and I want you to drive me to my appointments." Emma crossed her arms.

"You're impossible."

"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'Thank you for putting up with my raging bitch.' Seriously, do you have a dragon for a pet?"

"Positively vile."

Emma chased her onto the stoop. A kid, maybe Ruby's age, with a camera ran up to the mayor. Emma wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled brightly. The kid almost dropped his equipment. News traveled fast in Storybrooke, and everyone knew of their little showdown the night Emma arrived.

"Thanks again, Mayor Mills. You can't know what it will mean to this child to have your support." Emma played it up, laughing harder internally as Regina's cheeks darkened at a steady rate.

"You're welcome. Now fucking smile," Emma growled around her cheeky grin and waved as more people stopped to take in the news.

"Emma, are you coming to the picnic tonight?" The kid asked.

Emma scrambled for his name. It was something common and mundane. She almost panicked, and then, "Of course, Tommy. Miss Swan will be my personal guest this evening."

"Awesome!" He flitted away.

Emma dug nails into her shoulder. "I hate you."

"A sentiment I understand all too well, Miss Swan. Don't be late. I'll pick you up at five-thirty sharp. Do find something to wear that wasn't mass produced for Wal-mart. Have the shop owners call for my card number." With that, Regina pushed into the crowd with her coffee, fake smile planted and façade running full steam.

Emma smirked at her belly. "Better enjoy it while I can, Gremlin, because when you come out, she's going to run me out of town on a rail."


	4. Test Run

Thanks for all the new follows and reviews. Keep 'em comin' and enjoy!

Song: Strip by Jessie J

* * *

"You bought that?" Smoky caramel eyes flickered over the red leather jacket, far too small for Emma's bulging belly. "Using my money?"

"You said not to get something cheap. What's more expensive than high-end leather from a boutique shop?" Emma reasoned, perfect clueless tone and expression. A few customers chuckled behind them, and Regina readjusted her shoulders, death glare silencing the crowd that consisted mostly of fisherman too tired for festivities or those slapped with the night shift grabbing breakfast before heading off to work.

"I thought perhaps something that actually fit, Miss Swan, might be more appropriate," Regina scathed. Too late now. The idiot girl waited until the very last moment to present this ridiculous dilemma. She pinched the bridge of her nose, chasing the headache that followed her around during the evenings until she relieved it with a drink.

"My jeans and boots fit just fine, see?" Emma twisted her foot on the tip of the brand new soft brown leather riding boot, displaying it for Regina. It actually sort of resembled Regina's black ones. Except Regina wore black sheer tights over her legs, a knee-length black skirt, and a dark greyish-black pea coat with a light blue scarf peaking over the collar. Ruby red lips were dulled to a darker crimson, probably to put people at ease instead of remind her of the spitfire bitch beneath the perfectly styled hair and tailored clothes.

"Fine. I don't care if you'll be a frozen clown by the end of tonight's events. We're already late. Your punctuality resembles your fashion choice, Miss Swan."

"Badass and stylish?"

"Not the descriptors I'd use, Dear."

"You two take it outside. You're scaring away my customers," Granny growled from the food window, steam and heat rising from the grill to blotch her leathery cheeks.

"Granny, your customers love me. I can't speak for Mayor Tight Ass here, but I'm the best thing that's happened to this diner since your apple pie."

"Like the Bubonic Plague was the best thing for population control," Regina muttered, still pinching her nose.

"It did touch so many lives, and none was immune to its power," Emma agreed dreamily, flashing a brilliant smile when Regina raised an incredulous expression.

"You're impossible." Regina brushed past her, fully expecting her new puppy to follow. The ingenuous trollop wouldn't resist the opportunity to irritate her with every breath.

"C'mon, Mayor Hot Pants, admit it. You sort of, maybe like me." Patrons snickered and exaggerated interest in coffee cups and half-eaten burgers as Regina tore through the diner with Emma clamoring at her heels.

"I'll admit to no such atrocious embellishment of the truth even a politician would be ashamed to spin," Regina grouched and ripped the door open. An arm jerked into the cool evening, and Emma smirked as she slipped into the nippy air before her chaperone.

"Tell Rubes I'll meet her at the carnival thingy," Emma called to Granny over her shoulder. The old woman grumbled something indiscernible, and then the warmth of the diner disappeared completely with the slamming of a door and rattling of a little bell.

"Here," Emma grunted and shoved a small bottle into Regina's stomach. Clear glitter nail polish she'd not noticed before shimmered in the faint light, irritating her more… Ruby's addition to her outfit, no doubt. "Your hands are shaking." Regina glared at the shot of spiced rum, followed the arm beneath red leather to a pair of serious green eyes darkened by dusk and heavy emotion. "Don't say anything, just drink it."

"How…"

"I said not to say anything. I swiped it, okay? I'm not old enough to buy it, and Granny told me that you had panic attacks and stuff in big crowds so I figured you'd need it tonight." Emma snagged her wrist, turning her hand palm up, and slapped the bottle into it.

"I do not need alcohol, Miss Swan." The protest sounded weak and pathetic, even to her own ears. They both knew that Emma knew better. Little thief knew how to read people, to notice what others missed.

"Right."

"Who are you?" Regina asked. Not many people surprised her or stood up to her or showed her anything resembling kindness – not for years. This girl picked apart her motives and life within four days of stunted interactions. From that very first conversation, she'd noticed the woman beneath the façade.

Emma shoved her hands into the leather jacket and shrugged. "I'll let you know when I figure it out." She sighed a heavy stream of white breath and glanced towards the brightly lit town square and carnival in the park just across the street from Regina's office. "I don't mind crowds. It's easier than trying to talk to someone one-on-one. What's your deal with 'em anyway?"

Regina turned up the bottle, guzzling half the contents from the tiny neck. Caramel eyes fluttered and closed in relief as the substance soothed her nerves and desire for the warmth in her belly, the burn in her throat. "I've been anxious around large groups since I was a child."

"Why?"

Regina finished the contents and shoved the empty container into her purse. "We're late." Again, she stalked ahead, running from the genuine interest in her life. The girl had already proven mastery at manipulation. The less she knew, the harder she'd have to work to use that information to her advantage.

Thankfully, Emma took the hint and trudged alongside her in silence. Regina hesitated at the edge of the festivities, as unwilling to soil her shoes on the grass as she was to carve a fake smile onto her face and say "Happy Founder's Day" a thousand times before collapsing into her Luxuria memory foam mattress and goose down duvet. Thankfully, experience traded her Jimmy Choos for a pair of black knee-high boots, still stylish and comfortable but dropped her height several inches – something Emma reminded her of with each step as her ear bobbed at the girl's shoulder. At least her feet would be warm and at ease for the duration of the ridiculous celebration.

The scent of cinnamon and apples and pumpkin-flavored everything soothed the remainder of frazzled nerves bundled in the knot slowly easing from a tightly wound coil in her belly. The thought, more often than the experience, caused such high anxiety. Emma sucked a noisy breath into her nostrils and exhaled a contented sigh through her mouth, secretly amusing the fussy mayor. Regina allowed a solitary moment to study the young woman paid to be at her side – the sharp contour of her jaw and thin nose indicative of Nordic heritage, almost ethereal blonde hair falling in natural ringlets over her shoulders, those wonder-filled gray-green eyes greedily devouring all of the silly carnival stalls, and that stupid crooked smile that charmed the worst of them (a.k.a Leroy)… or maybe herself. No one would ever have guessed the child now practically vibrating with excitement slipped her stolen hooch only minutes before, wisdom and jadedness flickering in her eyes and the weight of the world on those thin shoulders.

"What's that?" Emma grabbed her forearm, quite unaware of her hand's actions as she stopped to admire a stall equipped with several clown heads sporting bullseyes in their mouths with guns anchored along the front table. A big banner with worn edges draped the table and proudly announced that all proceeds funded the summer little league team.

"You've never played shoot the clown?"

Emma shrugged, tugged at the pockets of her jacket as her eyes lowered. Regina rolled her eyes and dug a ten out of her purse. "But we're late," Emma protested. She was on duty as Regina's pet project to win the mayoral race.

"I'm the mayor, Miss Swan. They'll wait." Irritated with Emma's hesitation, she marched to the stall and shoved the money at a man Emma hadn't yet met. He gave her eight dollars of change and beckoned the girl now coy and insecure. "Do hurry, Miss Swan. I haven't all night to wait." The command lacked its usual bite, and Emma took a moment to analyze the new facet Regina revealed, not quite able to decipher the anxious grip on her purse or shifting from foot to foot.

"How does it work?"

"Shoot the water stream into the clown's mouth. If you raise it to a certain point, you win a prize," Regina instructed, trying to remain focused on Emma and not the little league coach eyeing her suspiciously.

Emma nodded, completely oblivious to the unusual attention her mentor garnered from the display of utter humanness. She gripped the pistol, took aim, and fired. For a few seconds, she thought the game might be easy… until the damn clown moved and destroyed her aim. "Almost had it," she saved face, more disappointed than she cared to admit.

Regina handed the man another two dollars and plopped her purse onto the table. Emma nearly jumped out of her new jacket when a warm hand touched the small of her back and guided her to the proper position. "It helps to lean down, get a better aim. Are you able?" She demonstrated, almost squatting in front of the gun to get eyelevel. Emma followed her instruction, too awestruck by Regina's willingness to interact with her to argue. Her belly made the position uncomfortable, but determination kept her there. Her soul reached out to this Regina, so utterly human and vulnerable and… friendly?

She wasn't the only one who noticed because when she turned around, full of giddy adrenaline and triumphant, a small crowd gawked and whispered. Regina's body bristled with tension and nervous energy. She really hated the attention, so Emma took it.

"Boom, baby! I am queen of the clowns!" She bowed, ridiculous as ever, and blew a kiss to the bystanders.

"That may be the most understated fact ever uttered, Miss Swan," Regina scratched.

Emma danced around the grumpy mayor and pointed at tiny stuffed white tiger. She tucked the fluffy thing into the collar of her jacket, perched on her shoulder like a badge of honor. "Oh, come on, Madame Mayor. You should play. Make the clown your bitch."

One side of Regina's mouth quirked, almost grinned even. "That, Miss Swan, would be an inappropriate breach of our contract," she responded so quietly that Emma barely heard her and then turned on a heel and continued toward the picnic area with long, graceful strides. After a moment of re-hinging her jaw, Emma shrugged at the man behind the table and chased after the older woman who was surprisingly fast with such short legs.

Sydney waited impatiently near a dais in town square and glanced at his watch twice before catching sight of his boss. "You're late. I hope you and Miss Swan enjoyed yourselves." He grinned at Regina slight surprise. "You know how quickly word of mouth travels in Storybrooke, Regina. Honestly. I do remember young Ruby's fondness of the game."

"Enough, Mr. Glass. I pay you to speak to them, not me."

"Ah, yes, your speech." He handed her a folded paper.

It was too late, though, Emma caught the tidbit of information and latched onto it like a leech. "You taught Ruby how to play shoot the clown?"

Regina shoved a few bills into her hand. "Do try to keep your grease and sugar consumption to a minimum, Miss Swan. We've achieved the desired impression. Your services are no longer required this evening."

The dismissal kicked Emma in the chest. Had that truly all been an act? She'd let her guard down for one freaking minute, and the cold-hearted woman slapped her heart and confidence around like a ragdoll. Emma tossed the money at her chest. "Guess it doesn't to take a breach in contract, does it? I told you, I'm not your freaking employee, and I won't be bought."

"She does have a way about her," Sydney murmured as he collected the money from the wet grass and Emma stomped off towards the game area.

Rather than respond, Regina turned her back to the crowd gathering to hear her annual speech about the greatness of Storybrooke and dug past the empty shot bottle Emma gave her earlier to the full one she'd brought on her own. Sydney sighed loudly but remained otherwise silent while she guzzled the amber liquid.


	5. Ghosts

So, I'm either terrible with fluff or have caught the eye of those here for the angst… either way. Thanks for the reviews and follows! Here ye be.

Song: Clarity by Zedd (Acoustic)

* * *

Sunlight.

For the first time in two weeks, Emma finally felt the sun on her face. Sure, winter crept just around the corner, but she'd never been so long without a break in the clouds. She felt Ruby's questioning eyes on her back across the room from where she stood at the window sighing and groaning in relief that small warmth brought. Granny gave up the idea that Emma occupied her own room a week ago after finding them curled into the same tiny bed every morning. The one night they attempted apart, Emma woke up screaming, so Granny had another twin bed moved into Ruby's room in their apartment above the diner. To Emma's relief, she never asked what caused the terror and never mentioned the incident to Ruby who would have surely pried.

"I wish I could skip school and go to the cemetery. Mom always loved picnics on cold, sunny days in the fall."

Emma grinned, a wildness that reached her eyes as she faced her friend. The bright light silhouetted her form, shiny white rays bursting around her ever-growing belly. It wouldn't be long now.

"So, play hooky and let's go."

"Granny will kill me," Ruby dismissed the idea without second thought.

"I'm not going to tell her, and you never miss school. No one will think anything is off if you miss half a day." Emma vibrated with excitement, bounding across the room faster than her pregnant body should have allowed. She grabbed Ruby's hand and spun the thin girl. "Come on, Rubes. Play hooky with me."

Wild laughter followed until Ruby got dizzy from the shifting scenery and fell into Emma. She held her breath, glanced up at Emma. They laughed harder, leaning on each other for support.

"What the hell is happening in my house? You two could wake the damn dead." Granny's bulk hovered near the door, more amused than annoyed. Ruby tried to speak, gasped instead. Her red face buried against Emma's shoulder to muffle her laughter. Emma's attempt yielded about as much coherency. After a minute, Granny rolled her eyes and left the room, which inspired another bout of giggles.

They collapsed on Ruby's bed. Emma grabbed her belly when the tiny monster joined the fun. Ruby cupped the baby's favorite spot to kick and punch, still amazed by the life within her friend. Her scarred arm rested atop the bump, exposed to the world. She'd stopped hiding it from Emma because somehow the older girl made her feel normal, even with the scars. The baby settled as their giggles died out, and Ruby laid her head on Emma's shoulder, knowing her light weight no strain on the well-sculpted arm beneath her waist.

Emma propped her head with her free arm and pulled Ruby's emaciated body against her belly, tracing an old, white line with the other thumb. "Doesn't it hurt?" She blurted without thinking. They never really talked about Ruby's self-mutilation. They never really talked about anything serious, and it felt good to forget about the world during their late night giggles and movie marathons.

"It feels better than what I feel inside." Ruby raised onto an elbow to look at the jagged scars overtaking her pale flesh. "It's like… I mean, I know everyone thinks I'm a suicidal freak, but I don't want to die… I just… it's like, if they can see them, it's like they can see the pain I feel inside. They can see me, and I'm not going to just fade away as long as I show the world what's on the inside. Dr. Hopper says it's a common reaction for kids who have been abused or traumatized. We'd rather punish ourselves than lash out at the people causing us pain."

Emma brushed her thumb over the multitude of bumps and absorbed the explanation with understanding rather than judgement. "You don't deserve to be punished, Ruby. You're the sweetest person I've ever met, and I wish you wouldn't let those bastards make you feel this way."

"Dr. Hopper says I should go see my dad. He thinks it would help me find closure if I confront him. That's where Granny was the night you came to Storybrooke. She went to see him." Ah, that explained Ruby's heavy mutilation that day and Granny's willingness to leave her alone. "I think it helped. She's been talking about redecorating the diner. That stupid wolf wall paper is hideous."

Emma chuckled and squeezed Ruby's arm, healing the emotional hurt within the physical scars. "It's like the set of a bad horror movie."

"That's what I keep telling her!"

"Telling me what?" Granny grouched from the door.

"That spiders aren't creepy," Ruby mumbled. She shared a grin with Emma.

"You best not be bringing anymore of those critters into my house, you hear? Now, get moving before you're late."

"Yes, Granny." The teen obediently slipped off the bed and into a thin jacket that she'd wear over her arms during the day, her cape for warmth against the cold day, the first day of November. The old woman hugged her tight and then sent her on to school, dashing their plans of escape.

"And you, Regina is terrorizing my customers. Get downstairs before I swat you good."

"Shit, is my appointment today?" She'd not spoken to Regina since the night of the fair. Granny shook her head and disappeared.

Emma shimmied out of the bed and pulled on the red leather jacket she'd bought on Regina's dime. It wasn't nearly large enough to zip around the baby bump, but after she gave birth, it was going to look awesome. Why not take advantage completely if Regina so graciously demanded her to be well-dressed? Plus, the 'ghastly representation of fashion' irritated the snippy woman, so it made Emma happy on all fronts. Too bad her feet were too swollen to fit into the brown leather riding boots. Sneakers would have to do.

The little white tiger she'd won that night stared at her where its head poked from beneath her pillow. She'd behaved horribly to Regina who had already been on edge and tense. She should have stayed for her speech. "Shut up," she muttered to the little creature and stomped out of the room. It wasn't like Regina would have accepted her apology if she tried, so why bother?

Folks waved when she entered the dining room. She grinned at them and breezed behind the counter to pour a cup of coffee. An obscene amount of sugar and cream diluted the black liquid to the color of dark caramel eyes. Emma raised the mug in salute before bringing it to her lips. Regina covered the top, red nails poking Emma's chin across the counter.

"Must you always be a child?"

"Must you always shove a stick up your ass every morning?"

"Miss Swan." A steadying breath. A cheeky grin.

"Madame Mayor," Emma attempted in the same frustrated tone, but the laughter quivering in her voice ruined it. She relinquished the mug without further argument as a customer approached the cash register. The mayor jerked at the sudden weight in her hands, barely keeping the hot liquid from spilling all over her young charge. Emma transformed the laughter into a brilliant smile, catching Regina by surprise. She looked so young and carefree in that moment, but the wisdom in those fascinating green eyes constantly reminded her that somewhere in her short life Emma learned how to manipulate people through years of neglect and abuse.

"Madame Mayor, it's so wonderful of you to drive me _all_ the way to city for my appointment. The bus is hell on my back. This little critter," she patted her belly for effect, keeping an eye on the woman waiting at the register – Casey, the longshorewoman who witnessed the showdown between them that first night. "is hell on my body."

Dark red spread up Regina's chest, like a cartoon thermometer that indicated anger. Any moment now, the mercury top blew off and sprayed acid everywhere. Emma's smile transformed into a smirk. She stepped up to the cash register, pretending to only have seen the woman in that moment.

"Casey, did you know that Mayor Mills is driving me to all of my appointments? She even had Stacy set them up and everything." The woman glanced at Regina who forced a smile so big, she actually looked like a cartoon animation, her cheeks nearly purple then. "She even bought me some new clothes. Isn't this jacket gorgeous?"

"It's too small, and it's hideous," Regina muttered. Casey looked at her funny, and she forced another smile. "But of course, I don't believe in regulating other women's clothes."

Emma leaned forward conspiratorially, using a stage whisper, "She secretly likes leather, if you know what I mean." A wink at the longshorewoman had her bolting for the door, red-faced and smirking at the mayor. Oh yeah, she could do some damage to a pretty young woman in bed.

"I hate you." Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd drunk herself to sleep the previous night; Emma could tell by the residual headache that followed her around the next day. She'd reached the limit of Emma's teasing.

"Do I have time to grab breakfast?"

Regina tapped the foam box next to her as she set the mug on the counter, leaving a ring of light brown on the linoleum. "I've taken the liberty since you seem incapable of punctuality." Apparently, they'd both silently agreed to forget the incident on Founder's Day, both apologizing in their own way.

"Awww, you do care," Emma exclaimed, clutching her hands to her chest. Giggles and smirks circulated the diner. The kid certainly gave the mayor a run for her money, confusing them further as to why the crabby woman endured the obvious torture.

"Hardly. I simply wish to be done with our time as quickly as possible. I do have a town to run and responsibilities, Miss Swan." Regina pushed the container across the counter and turned swiftly towards the door, uncomfortable with the rapt attention from the commoners witnessing the potentially tender display of her giving a damn about Emma's needs and health. "There is a bottle of water in the car. Don't dawdle any longer than necessary."

Emma snagged a package of plastic cutlery from beneath the counter, sucked a gulp of the sticky sweet substance she deemed coffee, and followed the prickly woman. "Granny, you need me to bring you back anything?"

"Watermelon," the woman yelled from the food window. "Your damn pregnancy cravings have depleted my stock, and it ain't cheap this time a year, girl."

"You got it, o-cappy-ton."

Fishy Christmas surrounded her, but not even that odd scent dampened her mood when the sunshine hugged her body, contrasting nicely with the cold, stout wind wafting off the ocean. Regina waited in a huff as she fiddled with the seatbelt strap until it settled above and below her belly comfortably. Emma grinned, Regina rolled her eyes.

"Admit it, you sort of like me."

"I'd like to draw and quarter you," Regina mumbled and pulled onto the empty street.

"I see her majesty is quite hung over again. Don't get crabby and start killing off your best servants." Emma snickered at the tongue click and opened her breakfast, decked out with enough garnish to serve actual royalty. "Watermelon would have been sufficient."

"Nutrition is more important now than ever in your last trimester." Emma chewed a bite of grilled turkey breast – too damn odd to acknowledge as a breakfast food – and studied the odd woman. Shadows flickered over her face, light filtering through the trees on the desolate road leading out of town. Not for the first time, Emma concocted a million different stories about how Regina obtained so much knowledge about pregnancy. She had no children, never indicated she wanted them.

"One day you'll tell me," she murmured. Regina's eyes shifted long enough to watch a piece of watermelon disappear.

"Tell you what?"

"Seriously, why do you know so much about pregnancy? Pregnant women don't even know that much about it."

"Do not mistake me for your friend, Miss Swan." Hands tensed around the steering wheel, white and pink from the pressure. Her driving, like everything else about Regina, stayed tense and riddled with anxiety. No wonder she drank. Woman needed to relax.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Highness," Emma muttered, pouty. Every attempt to bust through Regina's walls ended with her simply bashing her head against brick with no progress. Sometimes, she thought they'd cracked a little – softening of her smoky eyes, unexplained gentleness in her voice. Those moments always scratched her deepest because she let her guard down, reaching out to the other woman as tortured as she. "Thanks for breakfast." Emma braced, knowing what came next.

"It wasn't kindness, Miss Swan, only a desire to end this day as quickly as possible. Your gratitude is not necessary."

A rush of heat flushed Emma's cheeks, a lightening flash of rage that trembled in her hands. She punched the window control, blonde hair whipping into tangles from the cold air blowing into the warm car. With a flick of her wrist, she flung the foam container into the wind, watermelon and cottage cheese spattering down the side of Regina's Mercedes. Smoke rolled. Rubber squalled on wet blacktop. Regina threw the shifter into park before the car stopped moving completely and twisted in her seat with a glare harsh enough to actually startle Emma out of her anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Emma shrugged, playing disinterested in the entire reaction. "If it wasn't kindness, it shouldn't offend you if I didn't want it. What do you care?"

"I don't," Regina snapped.

"Good. Don't strain yourself. Save it for the cameras." Slumping into the seat, Emma stared out the window, face as neutral as possible. Okay, maybe she wasn't over the Founder's Day incident. Maybe everyone was right. Regina cared about Regina and not much else. Her striking, almost exotic, appearance and unusual eyes tricked Emma into believing the woman worth befriending. She should have learned her lesson by then, not just with Regina. People sucked. Life sucked. You survived and then you died, nothing more.

The mayor sucked a breath, lips parted. Black hair shimmied as she shook her head, apparently searching for something to say. After a moment, she clicked her tongue and punched the window lock button on her door.

"Seriously?"

"If you wish to behave like a child, I shall treat you as one." It's not what she'd meant to say, but apologies never came easily – or at all in Regina's case. She owed the immature brat nothing and paid good money for her pretend loyalty.

The car moved again without further comment from Regina. The trip passed in silence, only the trees and hum of the engine for company. Eventually, nature gave way to the random house. The random house became four lanes of traffic, fast food joints, that sour milk scent that accompanied major freeways into large cities. Why sour milk? Already the sound overwhelmed Emma after the peaceful slush of the sleepy, wet roads of Storybrooke. She'd always been a city girl, so the realization of actually enjoying small-town life alarmed her.

"Why did you demand this of me when you knew how it would end?" Regina broke the silence as she pulled into a huge hospital parking lot. Of course, her doctor was part of a major health system.

"Because I didn't want to come alone, and I knew you wouldn't get mushy and sentimental about the baby." That wasn't exactly a lie. With a sigh, Emma unbuckled her seatbelt, stomach growling. She'd never tell Regina that she really wanted that breakfast now that she'd calmed. "And I kind of wanted to get to know you better, since I am helping you get re-elected. Ya know, make sure you're doing your job."

"You're going to be late," Regina dodged the sliver of emotion Emma displayed and opened the door.

"And that would just be the most horrible thing in the world."

One step up and two giant emotional explosions back.

After a maze of hallways that Regina navigated with suspicious ease, they reached an office; according to the sign, it specialized in obstetrics, gynecology, and in vitro fertilization. Regina filled out a bunch of crap and supervised over Emma's shoulder as she completed her parts of the forms. They asked the same questions ten times and then finally made her sign a form which allowed them to treat her. What the fuck was she there for if not to be treated? Idiots.

"I don't have an ID," she confided, glancing anxiously towards the receptionist already eying her like she knew.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, irritated. The second she raised her fury to the wide green eyes of a terrified young woman, saw the slight scribble from the involuntary tremor in her hand where it pressed the pen to the form. Her date of birth froze her cold – September 19, no year. A warm palm covered her thumb, wrapped steadier fingers around longer ones. 1987 appeared in irrefutable black ink. Caramel eyes studied the number, hand still poised atop Emma's.

"I'm 19," she finally revealed her age.

Slight pressure on her hand. A comforting gesture or reflex? "Today you're 17 and under my care. They really don't care who you are as long as my card number is on file."

"Thank you."

"I've not agreed to this ridiculous ploy only to end embarrassed, Miss Swan," the mayor snapped, jerked her hand away to adjust her blazer and skirt. The sting of rejection Emma expected never followed the rebuke – instead, understanding. Regina snapped when others were vulnerable to prevent herself from opening up to the amount of trust and respect being shown. Emma smiled and studied the huffy woman with new eyes.

"What?" Regina looked anywhere but her eyes, so Emma lowered them to the form.

Her smile, however, and the warm glow in her chest refused to be muted. "Nothing."

Eyes, not actions, Swan. Sometimes the nicest people intended irreparable harm, and sometimes, those hardest to love offered the most – needed the most. Everyone had a story, and Emma decided she wanted to know Regina's, even if it killed her. The only person in her life she'd not been able to charm immediately sat next to her begging to be cracked open and explored.

Regina returned the forms, said a few words. The glass closed with no further question to her identity, not one suspicious eye in her direction. The wait passed in silence with both of them pressed as far from the other as possible in plushy green and maroon striped chairs. Two other women, about as pregnant as she, read magazines. This was what normal life felt like. It made Emma nervous enough to jump when her name was called.

"You're going with me?" She blurted when Regina stood in unison.

Regina floundered, glanced between the nurse and receptionist. Mayor Mills slipped into her mask, took control of the situation. "You're 17."

"Uh huh. I told you that you kind of liked me."

"And I told you that having an affair with our father's boyfriend was a terrible idea." Regina crossed her arms, smirking at the flush that eclipsed Emma's pale cheeks. Payback for the leather comments, no doubt.

"That's…" Emma laughed nervously and cleared her throat. "I didn't… she's…"

"Move it. I haven't all day, little sister." Regina gave her a tiny shove towards the nurse desperately trying to cover her shock of the fake revelation.

"I hate you."

"If you hate me so much, perhaps you should ask Garrett for help. Oh, that's right. He and father are vacationing in Aruba until the end of the month."

"Okay. Stop. I'm going. Geesh."

Thankfully, Regina waited in the hall while she changed into the flimsy gown with the assistance of the nurse. She kept her head down for the most part, out of respect and probably embarrassment of the concocted family history. She helped Emma out of her bra and then continued with the same questions she'd answered on the forms in the waiting room. Seriously, they weren't concerned at all with efficiency in this place.

"Tara, will you please let the doctor know that I don't want to know the sex?"

"Of course. Sit tight. It'll be just a couple minutes. Do you want me to ask your sister to come in?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"I didn't know Mayor Mills had a sister."

"Yeah, they don't talk about me much. Step-sister," she confided, secretive. The nurse nodded. "Storybrooke is a long way from here, but you still call her mayor. She come here a lot?"

"I can't say much, but she has been a patient for years." She finished something on the chart. "I'll let the doctor know you're ready."

Emma glared. Regina smirked. The wait passed again in silence. A middle-aged woman with wavy brown hair streaked with grey breezed into the room, far too comfortable with touching the genitals and breasts of perfect strangers and too peppy to set Emma at ease. The sonogram passed without incident. Emma covered her ears when she listened to the baby's heartbeat, kept her eyes pointed directly at the ceiling. Regina watched the screen, listened without comment on Emma's behavior or the baby's vital signs. Her surprisingly calm demeanor, almost like she forced herself not to react, soothed Emma much more than the doctor's feedback and explanations. Emma focused on her steady gaze when the doctor cleaned her belly of the gel and guided her feet to heel rests she pulled from the end of the table.

"Uhhh, what are you doing?"

"Pap smear and vaginal exam. Your chart says you've never had one. Just want to make sure everything is normal. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Emma forced herself to lay back, gripping the sheet with both hands. The doctor's voice faded, the buzzing of fluorescent lights died away. Only blinding light, Regina's calm eyes, and the pounding of blood echoing in her ears remained.

 _"_ _You're not going to touch her," Emma vowed, stepping between him and the girl._

 _"_ _Who's going to stop me? You?"_

 _"_ _If I have to."_

"Stop," she whispered, struggling upright.

"Almost finished. Try to relax."

"I said stop!" Adrenaline pulled her up. The foreign object disappeared. The doctor glanced at Regina, back to Emma slightly panicked.

"We're done here." Emma rolled off the bed, not bothering to clean the goop from her thighs or donning undergarments. Her jeans squished and breasts jiggled painfully as she bolted for the door, bra and panties in hand. She couldn't bring herself to stop until she followed enough exit signs to find the parking lot.

Finally, in the cold air and warm sun, she started breathing again.

Regina found her leaning against the passenger door, head bowed and shivering from the sharp wind. She handed her the hideous red leather atrocity, but Emma gave no indication she intended to put it on.

"Miss Swan, care to explain yourself?"

"Just unlock the doors and take me back to Storybrooke."

"I believe I've earned an explanation. You mysteriously arrive in my town late at night with no history, no money, no identification. For all I know, you may have killed someone and are…"

"Regina, please." Maybe it was the use of her first name, perhaps the sheer desperation in Emma's plea, but she pressed the fob to the door locks and let the girl off the hook.

By the time Regina stopped outside the diner, Emma's silence unnerved her to the point of craving a drink. It was only just after 10, far too soon to indulge that side of herself, but still the urge remained, accompanied with the odd desire to make her young charge feel secure again. The moment passed her by in the search for the rights words, and Emma opened the door.

"I didn't kill anyone," she murmured and then left the car faster than Regina absorbed the information.

She watched her disappear into the diner's warmth and retrieved two pieces of photo paper from the pocket of her blazer. A distorted image of a baby boy stared back at her, his tiny fist above his head like he slept peacefully. In a moment of insanity, she tucked them into the visor beside a much older, blurrier picture of an unborn child the size of a peach seed. Fingers trembled when she tried to trace each picture, not quite bringing herself to touch what she'd never have. Granny appeared at the diner door, obviously upset by Emma's mental state. Regina slammed the visor shut and took off towards her empty mansion and the liquid comfort that waited there.


	6. Breaking

Thanks for all the new follows and reviews for this story. I know it's outside my normal smash and dash, live-action, kick-ass grandiose plot form, so thanks for giving it a shot.

Enjoy!

Song: Only Human by Christina Perri

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Regina tugged at the half-open, teal robe that revealed the matching flimsy spaghetti strap camisole and shorts that barely touched her thighs.

Emma blinked up at the hoarse voice cursing at her from the foyer of the mayoral mansion. Regina looked like refried hell – pale and sickly with greasy hair and smeared makeup she'd not bothered to remove the night before. Disregarding the harshness, Emma settled into the plushy black leather sofa and resumed mindless staring at the television. Some talk show she'd not actually absorbed during her 30-minute wait for Regina to roll her hangover out of bed.

"Miss me?"

"Like a brain parasite."

"I made coffee. Granny sent you some muffins. Chocolate almond cranberry, she said they're your favorite."

"How the hell do you keep getting into my house?"

Emma shrugged, not bothered by the underlying threat in Regina's voice. "Picked the locks with two bobby pins, and your alarm system is pretty rudimentary for someone who has so much money. There's a generic code to disarm the system, just in case you forget yours."

"You seem quite confident I won't call Sheriff Hunter."

"The salty air makes your locks sticky, you should oil those."

"Am I supposed to take advice from a contemptible wretch barely out of diapers?"

"Just go drink your fucking coffee, eat a muffin, and shut the hell up. Is your head so far up your ass that you can't even say thank you? I went to your office. Stacy said you cancelled all your meetings again. You can't keep doing that." God, why must Regina make being nice to her so fucking difficult? Not even Emma had the patience for it that morning. Ignoring the ache of tears in her throat, she stared at the television.

"You're a child. You know nothing."

The fresh sting tore deeper than any of the other scathing insults and witty jabs. Those were simply Regina protecting herself. This one felt like a reminder. She reminded Emma of her place and herself to whom exactly she spoke. "I know more than most adults," Emma murmured. Something in her voice stopped Regina cold.

"Is this knowledge the root of your episode yesterday?" Regina crossed her arms, partially in refusal to give Emma the satisfaction of watching her pinch at the headache behind her eyes but mostly because the question made her personally involved. Curiosity had always been her downfall. The last time a woman intrigued her… That didn't matter. Her muscles coiled, trapping the thoughts, but it was too late. Emma lowered her gaze, almost respectful of the maelstrom of emotions flickering in those expressive caramel eyes.

"Can we just pretend that we both aren't super fucked up and watch T.V. right now? I don't want to be alone, but if one more person asks why I'm not smiling today, I might become a demented swan and peck their eyes out and eat their tongues for lunch."

The pleasant imagery turned Regina's queasy stomach. Emma's heart fell when she simply left the living room. Whatever demons clawed at Regina's heart with sharpened claws and open bloody jowls, kept all other visitors at a safe distance. She'd not expected a warm welcome anyway. Granny warned her, Regina Mills kept no friends and trusted no man, woman, or child. Without the cover of television, she heard Regina moving around the kitchen. Cabinets slammed, porcelain on marble. Not even the gift of fresh muffins melted Regina's heart, which was like getting an experimental medical treatment only to find out it had been an absolute waste of time. Emma waddled into the foyer with disappointment on one shoulder and emotional flagellation on the other. It wasn't her job to save everyone, especially when they clearly wished to be left to their self-destruction, but her stupid heart never stopped trying. She tried not to care, but something about Regina inspired concurrent urges to claw at the woman's eyes and hug her until her pain loosened. She got the closure of neither action.

"Where are you going?" Regina demanded, like all other questions that fell from her red lips.

"I thought… I mean, you didn't…"

"Do complete a proper sentence if you intend to stay." The mayor left her standing dumb in middle of the foyer and disappeared into the living room with a plate of muffins and a cup of coffee. A moment later laughter of a studio audience echoed into the large space. The familiar sound brushed against her physically, a cocoon of warmth and pleasant memories – the only ones she had. The piquant sensation left her no choice but to follow that lovely sound.

Returning to the living room, she teased, "You don't strike me as The Golden Girls type."

"It was the height of American comedy. We've done nearly nothing of value since then," Regina defended her slight obsession before she realized the softness in Emma's features. Time passed and allowed them a moment alone to consider the inexplicable emotions shimmering in the scrutiny. "What now, Miss Swan?"

"Nothing, just… I used to watch this every morning before school with Mary. She was a kooky bat with too many cats, but this, we totally agreed on." Emma reclaimed her seat closest to the door next to Regina and grinned at the television.

Regina studied her profile, chewed a piece of muffin. She'd missed Granny's muffins. Every morning during the first few months as mayor, those tiny warm balls of baked perfection summoned her terrified 27-year-old self to the shit show of an office her predecessor left. Those muffins might have saved Storybrooke, even if they'd not save her. As all things painful, she drank until it disappeared, worked until her mind numbed and forgot, or threw attention upon other people – it mattered little to her if she tore them down or built them up, only that their lives were her focus.

"Was she one of your foster mothers?"

The question packed a punch Emma hadn't prepared for; she'd forgotten that piece of information had slipped to the highly observant mayor. Emma suspected she rarely forgot anything, leaving her with only deflection and honesty as options. "Yeah, a good one, too. Granny's a lot like her. I was with her for two years on her farm, 13 to 15." A darkness eclipsed the light energy around the girl. A hard pulse banged in her throat, but those green eyes never left the screen, though Regina already saw the miles of distance between Emma and her living room.

"What happened? It seems as though you were happy there." Regina reached for another muffin, nonchalant. It irritated Emma. Hadn't her confession moved her in any way? Hadn't she understood this was Emma's only span of any type of happiness and she'd just shared it with her?

"Why do you care?" Emma slouched into the plush leather and propped her feet on the coffee table. Regina bristled but allowed the impropriety for the moment.

"I don't," Regina answered without her usual bite and forced her eyes to join Emma's on the large flat screen across the room. "Thank you for the coffee."

"My god, the earth is going to implode and become a black hole."

"That's scientifically impossible. Earth is a planet, not…"

Sharp green eyes silenced the rant. The studio audience guffawed at something Sophia said. Poor Rose. She hadn't a clue how much the others actually insulted her. Regina felt that way sometimes, clueless to human behavior. One moment Emma practically thrust her presence upon her, and the next she brooded with her arms crossed. People, especially women, confounded her. Sweet chocolate and tart cranberries mixed on her tongue. Emma watched from the peripheral but conveyed complete indifference of her expressions or movements.

"I wanted to be a marine biologist, not a politician. The ocean and all of its creatures fascinate me," Regina confessed, quiet and vulnerable.

"What? Do you have Tourette's as well as Bitch Syndrome?"

Regina's mouth twitched, amused. "Hardly, Miss Swan. You asked some time ago if I'd always aspired to politics, and the answer is no."

"Aaaaaand, now seemed the perfect time to answer instead of when I asked the question?"

Regina sipped coffee, hummed as the warmth soothed her abused throat. "It often requires a day or two in order for me to determine if I wish to answer the question." Crimson fingers stretched across the piece of chest uncovered by the thin robe. Embarrassment?

Oh. Regina was sharing. The poor mayor just went about it as awkwardly as she. One by one, Emma's defenses fell as deliberately as her arms, baring her body and soul to the dark woman who held the power to shred her into tiny emotional nuggets and fry her up in flour and oil. "Why didn't you? Become a marine biologist, I mean."

"I don't like boats," she admitted, growing redder with each embarrassing detail revealed.

Emma laughed out loud, not cruelly, just at the irony of the conflicting urge and fear. "I can't see how that might be problematic. Hold on, I'll tag that shark just as soon as I let go of the railing and tie myself off." Regina contained a laugh but not the accompanying smile, bowing her head at the playful scenario. "How the hell did you end up in politics?"

"My mother, she's a senator and my step-father works in Congress. I suppose I was conditioned to be one from childhood." The smile faded with the explanation, replaced with the ache of becoming a disappointing daughter.

"Hey," Emma ducked her head, catching her eyes. "Now you can poke at critters from the shore in the morning and sign a peace treaty by noon. It's kind of perfect."

Regina rolled her eyes. "Storybrooke is not a tribal village, Miss Swan."

"Your spirit animal could be a crab holding an apple pie in its pinchers." The girl imitated the ridiculous image in her mind, looking more like a drunk attempting a traditional Indian dance.

The mayor laughed out loud, barely keeping her coffee within the rim of her mug. The sound and sight of it struck Emma stupid once more, she simply watched. An emotion vein on her forehead appeared in the faint shape of a V, beautiful white teeth bared. Regina reigned in the expression of joy as abruptly as it exploded, touching three fingers to her lips like she'd gone so long without laughing that the movement of the muscles felt foreign to her body. Emma blinked away the enchantment before Regina raised her eyes, mocked her for caring.

"Perhaps a beaver would be more appropriate for Storybrooke, small but capable and productive."

"Beavers are assholes, though. Ever hear a story about a cute beaver that needs to be rescued by a human? No, you haven't because beavers are assholes. And squirrels? Those little fuckers know how to thrive anywhere. Ever been to a park in the city? They're going to take over the world one day, tiny little bodies clad in chainmail made out of bread ties, parachuting from buildings with little nut guns." Emma bolted up and to the edge of the cushion, body jostling with the consistency of a fully automatic weapon. "Commander, we're taking heavy fire. The humans have fortified the orchard. Please advise."

Regina chuckled, tucking a leg beneath the other as she turned on the sofa to watch Emma's shenanigans better. Headache forgotten, she propped a temple on her fist against the back of the couch. Emma flashed an effortless smile, obviously as entrapped in the spell they created as she.

"Your child will enjoy story time immensely with an imagination like that, Miss Swan."

A band of tension snapped tight around her young charge. Shoulders forward and coiled, not every ounce of her strength could have twisted her neck to look at Regina. "I'm not keeping it."

"After what you've experienced in the foster system, you'd willingly subject your child to such horrors?" Of course, Regina would call her out. Fair is fair.

"It's better off. It might get adopted by a good family and be okay. I know it's going to be screwed up with me. I'm choosing the lesser of two evils."

"Is that why you came to Storybrooke, Miss Swan? Do you hope someone here might accept the responsibility?" The thought had never entered Regina's mind. Emma clearly had a big heart to match her mouth, and she grasped the reality of her bleak situation better than Regina thought.

"It's totally cliché," Emma admitted with a sad little laugh.

"Storybrooke is a wonderful place to raise a child."

She expected harsh laughter. She expected ridicule for the naivety that brought her to small town nowhere, USA. She'd not expected sympathy from the one person most unlikely to give it. Soft caramel eyes greeted her as she finally faced this new Regina level she'd unlocked. For the second instance that morning, time moved beyond the moment unfolding. The scent of coffee and chocolate hung between them. Regina's makeup still caked and streaked. Gail forces whipped and brandished the groaning stilts supporting Emma's heart above the storm. Her life's story picked at her throat, climbing the previously insurmountable ice wall.

"I'm hungry," Emma blurted, forcing her pitiable existence into the well of stomach acid where it belonged. It was the first thing she thought of to end this awkward intimacy. Regina was the one person who wasn't supposed to be sentimental and mushy.

The mayor snorted and leaned forward. She understood, saw the uncertainty in those expressive green eyes. She'd worn that same expression enough, but no one else seemed to notice her inner workings. This stranger, this child, understood what it meant to experience such unimpassioned grief that expanded and contracted with a life of its own because they'd both been too damaged from birth to truly feel whole. Without speaking or ruining their intense staring contest, trembling fingers curled around a muffin from the plate on the table. Her breath caressed Emma's cheek, only a few inches between them. The girl sat perfectly still, every muscle tight, and prepared to flee from the weird intimacy pulling them closer that morning. Smoky caramel danced over her plump, pale lips, got lost in a sea of green.

Regina's breath frightened her, now closer, hotter. A surge of adrenaline excited the hair on her arms. That… that's why she cared. She had a stupid crush on Regina.

"I'm allergic to almonds," she whispered, lack of air stealing the strength from her voice. Even her hazy mind recoiled at the blatant lie. Why had she said that?

"You told Elizabeth you had none the night you arrived." Regina's voice cracked with softness. The wet warmth of breath disappeared, and Emma released a shuddering sigh. Regina was going to kiss her. Right? She'd not imagined that.

"I was pretty sure I wasn't getting nuts for dinner." A thousand reasons to stay jumped at her, beat against the fear. A thousand and one excited the wary woman to her feet. "I should go."

"I'll drive you."

"I'll walk."

"Miss Swan, have I upset you? I thought I was being quite pleasant considering you burgled into my home after I explicitly demanded otherwise." The mayor looked as confused as Emma felt. The emotions cowering in the dark corners of her mind probably hadn't even realized what she'd almost done. Then again, Regina was more self-aware than most… it's what unnerved Emma the most. Like her, Regina said and did everything deliberately, but that genuine confusion in the mayor's unusual eyes wove an entirely different tale. Pure emotions drove her actions, and now they both had no idea how to navigate the labyrinth.

"No, it's not you. I just… I just want to go okay?" If Regina responded, Emma never waited to hear it.

By the time she reached Granny's, she almost wished for that ride. Maine was damn cold and windy. Red-nosed and out of breath, she stood just inside the door of the diner, soaking up the warmth. Granny's was always warm and inviting, something she figured intentional to lull her customers into complacency and feel-goods that kept them coming back. Everyone loved a visit to a grandma who baked sweets and fed them like gluttonous royals. Emma particularly loved her blunt way of speaking. No one told the truth anymore, so that was appreciated when stumbled upon in her life.

"Well?" The woman of her thoughts barked from the food window, her eyes fixed on the grill. Creepy how wise women always knew stuff without looking. Emma waddled across the diner, almost empty in the calm before the lunch rush, and leaned crossed forearms on the ledge under a heat lamp.

"Volatile and hungover, as usual. Why do you care?"

"Regina's a good kid, just got problems like the rest of us." She shrugged. Emma watched. Something happened between Granny and Regina years ago, and it breached the point of blissful ignorance. Her ignorance set her up for a potential shit show she simply wanted to avoid. Granny cared about Regina and challenged her authority to keep her on track, not to be a pain in the ass or fight for the "little" people. Regina took care of her town, from janitor to magistrate, she saw that much. What she missed was what exactly happened between the two older women currently stretching her life in different directions.

"I'm pretty sure she has the hots for me," she tossed out casually, studying the minute but uncontrolled reactions in the old woman's wrinkles. A slight twitch of a frown, a furrow of the brow. She'd struck the right nerve. "Wow. Mayor Mills isn't nearly as boring as everyone thinks. Bitchy, beautiful, and totally not a prude." She left out the part of the story where she still felt Regina's breath on her cheek, how her body reacted to merely the thought after her sloshy trek through the freezing wind and rain.

"You stay away from that fire, girl. You'll get your ass burned." Of course Granny saw the mutual attraction anyway.

"What the hell did she do to make you so mad at her? You're not the grudge type, Granny. Is it because she was like a mom to Ruby and then abandoned her?"

"I think you should get the hell out of my diner and take the day off, girl, before I rethink our arrangement."

Emma raised her hands in surrender and backed away from the window two steps before shoving her hands into her back pockets and charged towards the door, head bowed in determination. No real destination stuck out in her mind, but she needed time alone to think before this town made her insane. No matter where she was or what she did, the precious commodity of solitude eluded her. If she didn't figure out her head and heart, she predicted disaster in the short time still left for her in Storybrooke.

Maybe the time had already come to move on before she made things worse.


	7. One Step Up

AHHHH! Sorry, my life is insane. I love all of you!

Song: Same Mistake by James Blunt

* * *

She shouldn't look.

Even her sensorimotor functions plotted against her, urging trembles down her fingers as she reached for the desk drawer in front of her stomach. Inside a flimsy piece of folded grey paper stared at her from beneath spare pens, stray paperclips, a dried-up container of white-out, and a shot of rum she kept for emergencies. Nudging the tiny glass bottle aside, two fingers pinched the neatly cut edge of paper and lifted the perfect fold that creased over her waist and just above Emma's belly. The tall, cheeky blonde grinned, whispered through clenched teeth on Founder's Day in front of the diner. Regina smiled. A perfect thumbnail traced the sharp curve of the girl's jaw, caressed wild golden locks. They'd made front page news that day, they'd saved her campaign that day. And now, after scraping the bravado off of the insecure and frightened young woman, Regina begrudgingly admitted her emotional investment. Emma needed more than a few weeks of medical care. She and her child needed a home.

"Madame Mayor?" Stacy's voice echoed into her office through a speaker.

"Yes, Ms. Cochran?" She responded without tearing her eyes from the photo.

"Do you require anything else, Ma'am? I've finished dictating the recording of the minutes of the Board of Education. They're in your mailbox."

"Could you come in here a moment, Stacy? Please bring your trashcan."

A moment later timid footsteps glanced across marble, reverberated on the cold walls of her office. "Ma'am?" Stacy's curvaceous form, buxom and beautiful in its fullness shifted in her peripheral, especially paired with her curly red hair kept perfectly maintained and bright green eyes. Regina appreciated a bigger woman as much as a toned one, but Stacy's loyalty and work ethic kept her at guard outside of her office more so than her appearance.

Warm caramel eyes remained on that defiant grin in the blurry photo, and a small bottle of liquor scraped plastic, bounced off thin wire, and disappeared in a bundle of crumpled sticky notes, pencil shavings, and ripped documents. Bright green eyes, much purer than Emma's rolling storm raised slowly from the bottle now in her possession to find a determined glint on Regina's face that she'd not seen since her first month of employment. The young mayor had fired nearly everyone on staff. A bunch of embezzling, bamboozling good-ole-boys, she'd called them when she hired Stacy. It'd taken her nearly a year, but she'd kept every single promise proclaimed during her run at the most powerful position in Storybrooke. She'd been determined then, even after her tragedy, but the fire faded as her tortured boss lost her heart to the grief.

"Ma'am?"

"Please clean my office, Stacy. I've no use for certain items any longer."

An infectious smile spilled slowly onto rosy cheeks. Stacy exhaled audibly through her nose, eyes closed and chest moving with the relieved breath. "Yes, Ma'am."

Regina squeezed her shoulder, lingered on the supple flesh beneath her fingers. "Thank you." They both understood she meant it far more than simply disposing of the alcohol but covering it up for the past few years. For staying when everyone else ran.

"Welcome back, Ma'am."

"Goodnight, Ms. Cochran."

Regina nearly reached the front door when the buzzing of her phone interrupted the confident stride. Without looking at the screen, she flipped open the device and held it to her ear. "Mayor…"

"Is she with you?"

"Hello Elizabeth, I'm fine. Thank you for asking. If the she you are referring to is Miss Swan, I have not seen or spoken to her since she ran out of my house this morning."

"She's gone, Regina."

"What do you mean she's gone?' Silence followed. Whatever happened between her and Emma after they parted had spooked the old woman. "Elizabeth," growled between clenched teeth. Nosy woman couldn't mind her own damn business.

"She was upset after seeing you this morning. I told her to take the day off because I didn't want to answer the questions she was asking."

"What questions?"

"Emma's a smart kid, Regina, and you need to keep your hands off her before you scare her away or worse." Oh, those types of questions.

"She's not your daughter, Elizabeth." The words flowed softly through the phone, a haunting melody of their past, their mutual grief.

"Anita has nothing to do with this," Granny huffed, the words strangled with emotional, deep and controlled.

"She has everything to do with this," Regina spat. Heat surged beneath her scarf, and she loosened the soft material before she suffocated from her own anger. "Emma reminds me of her, too, but she's not Anita.

"She's running from someone, and it don't much matter where she came from, she's my daughter now," Granny reminded her. A flush of terrified green eyes burned into her vision. Fear choked the girl too frozen to even write her real birthdate on an office form, and they all knew Swan to be an alias.

"I'll call Sheriff Hunter. We'll find her. Stay by the phone in the event she calls or returns." Disconnected, she dialed Storybrooke's sheriff, probably the closest thing she'd found as a friend. He bore her mood swings in stride and took her home if she drank too much working late. In return, she kept his tall dark drink of man cop in the city a secret.

"Madame Mayor," came his usual, partially amused greeting. Smug bastard.

"Miss Swan has gone missing. I need you to organize a search party."

"How long?" All levity left his voice. A low rumble of him talking to someone else.

"Approximately 10:30 this morning."

"I'm in Camden. I'll get Oscar working from there and check the roads on my way into town, but I think Emma would have found shelter by now. It's been snowing for two hours."

Regina swallowed the foreign emotion crawling up her throat. She cared. Like a flesh devouring parasite, Emma gnawed away at her heart and nestled her foul mouth and uncouth demeanor in less than three weeks of clipped interactions and stunted emotional connection. She liked the bad girls… or perhaps the girls who hadn't bothered to give a shit what other people thought of them, or her. Emma attracted her insecurity. Of course she had, brazen little tramp. It mattered little that she was 12 years older than the woman plaguing her thoughts. _I know more than most adults._

"Ma'am?" Regina startled, nearly taking out Stacy's eye with her flip phone. "Are you alright?" Stacy's eyes lingered on her trembling hands clutching at her phone. Watery caramel shimmered, wavered. Such a long time had passed since Regina displayed an inordinate amount of vulnerability, Stacy stood as frozen as her boss.

The mayor sniffed and tugged at the sleeve of her coat, covering her feelings. "Miss Swan has gone missing. A search party is being organized." Someone else said that. Surely, that lost, dull, dejected voice hadn't belonged to her – not dark and dangerous.

"Oh, Ma'am," a comforting voice accompanied the warm hand squeezing her shoulder. "Should I call my brothers? They know the woods well, Robin practically lives there."

"I'm sure I'm overreacting, but if it's no trouble…" She wasn't even unnerved by the display of affection and allowed it to linger. She needed something, someone, or a drink. No, she needed Emma's stupid crooked smile to mock her concern and extreme action.

"Of course not, we all love Emma, Madame Mayor. It's amazing, and a little unbelievable what you're doing for her, but whatever the reason, it's making everything better." Regina read between the lines. It made _her_ better, more tolerable, more human. She only nodded, hair falling into her face as caramel eyes ran from the emerald green of her assistant; they weren't the shade of green she yearned to see.

"Goodnight, Ms. Cochran. Please keep me informed of any developments."

Snow swirled in the gusts of salty air, scampered across dry concrete as though the tiny entities had places to be, things to do beyond taunting her. The snow knew where Emma had gone, whispered one to the other until even the flakes of darkest regions of the forest heard the secret knowledge. Regina stepped on a trail of conspirators, killing the silent perpetrators. Paranoid or delusional with irrational anger at nature, a twisted satisfaction took hold in her chest as her engine warmed and melted the surrounding white dust. She'd lived in Maine long enough to know not to take off with a cold engine, even for such a short drive. She almost stopped at Granny's, slowed to a crawl, glimpsed Granny hugging Ruby to her bosom behind the counter, kept moving forward. She'd hurt them enough.

Night descended quickly. Between the ten minute interval of starting her car and arriving at her mansion, she fumbled in the dark foyer for light. Her heart fluttered in anticipation, expecting the glow and faint sounds of the television to reveal Emma had broken into her house to find some peace. Poignant disappointment and silence greeted the broken mayor. Habit drove her towards the kitchen, always the first stop of the evening after work. She entered far enough to flip the light switch. The scotch her father taught her to drink called to her, strong and heady. She left it in the dark and tucked her trembling hands beneath her arms, pacing the foyer until the urge dissipated. All night if required, she determined. Emma wasn't wrong about her alcohol abuse, but no one bothered confronting her about it. No one cared enough. Emma cared.

"She's fine," Regina assured herself and squeezed already aching hands into tighter fists beneath her arms. A hundred times, she returned to the kitchen. Emma believed in her, tried to help her. So, she paced. To the stair case, to the living room, to the staircase. The consistent tap of her heels against the hardwood almost lulled the urge to drink. "She's fine."

And the call that came a few minutes after that statement confirmed it.

"They found her, Regina. She was wandering around at the old Toll Bridge. Damn fool got lost in the woods. She's frozen through, but she's alright. She's upstairs getting warmed up."

"I'm on my way." She snapped the phone closed before Granny elaborated. The display informed her that she'd paced for two hours. My god, Emma must have been in the middle stages of hypothermia.

A crowd of red-nosed faces sipping hot cocoa and coffee and hot tea met her in the diner. No doubt, their consolation prizes for bringing Emma home safely. The drive blurred, almost too quick and heavy to move from experience into memory. Granny punched a hand on her hip, the other supporting her weight on the stool side of the bar. Regina ignored all of them and charged ahead until floral print and a solid form stepped into her path.

"Leave her be, Regina," Granny ordered. She knew that tone, the one that left no room for negotiation.

"Step aside, Elizabeth."

"Go home. You've done enough for Miss Swan today."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Granny crossed her arms, glared over the clear plastic of her glasses. The group of people who had joined the search party shifted as one. The tension between the two women who practically ran the town had grown at a steady rate for years. Regina stepped to the side, only to be blocked again by the elder.

"Go home before you embarrass yourself, Regina. Emma is fine. I'd make her go to the hospital if she weren't," Granny tried reassurance, but her clipped tone destroyed any comfort it might have offered.

"Why are you so adamant that I not see Miss Swan?"

Granny stepped into her space, lowered her voice. "You're the one seducing a 19-year-old girl. She was upset today because she's dealing with the fact that she's getting ready to give birth to a child she can't afford to keep and now you've called her sexuality into question. I allowed you and Anita to carry on without comment because you made her and Ruby happy, but I will not allow you to destroy Emma, too."

"So, now I'm to blame for her death as though I pulled the trigger that night? Do you forget, old woman, that you've taken my child, too. You forbade me to see my daughter and I've done my best to honor that decision, but Emma is an adult and perfectly capable of making such a decision without your influence. Given the lengths she braves for my attention, I sincerely doubt it's unwanted." She'd not bothered to lower her voice, and the crowd shifted again, trying desperately to disappear into thin air. The small gasp, however, tugged at all of their hearts. Tiny, little Ruby with a silver tray filled with porcelain in the back hall, surely close enough to overhear the whole conversation. The girl looked terrified, big brown eyes shifting from Regina to Granny who wore a horrified expression identical to her granddaughter.

"What does that mean, Granny, 'carry on'?" She glanced desperately to Regina when the older woman failed to respond after a few seconds. "Is that…Regina, is that why he…"

"Ruby, I'm…" Regina's voice cracked, and she surged forward to comfort the girl. Two strong hands dug into her ribs, stopping her with pointy fingertips. "Elizabeth, step aside this instance." She pushed forward again, no match for the stout woman blocking her path. Tears she thought she'd shed years ago blurred the girl she'd considered a daughter once, perhaps still so. She blinked, swallowed the ache in her throat.

Silver and porcelain clanged and shattered against tile. Regina flinched, frozen as the girl she still loved ran away from the two women meant to protect her.

"Every time you reach out to her, you make everything worse. Get the hell out of my diner before I have you arrested for trespassing, Madame Mayor. This is still private property until I kick it."

Granny chased Ruby, and Regina turned on the toe of her heel and curled on herself, avoiding the pity and anger greeting her in the crowd. Her head never rose until she closed the door on the world, cradled in the safety of her mansion, the empty, echoing house with no soul despite its lavish beauty. She'd not redecorated in five years. She'd not decorated at all. Granny's daughter selected the furniture, the artwork, and crystal during the last weekend they'd spent together in the city. Her home was a ghost. Her life was a shadow moving through memories of the only time she'd ever remembered feeling happiness.

She pulled three photos from the pocket of her dark grey pea coat, two of Emma's son and one of the child who never had a chance. No one in the world except her remembered that unborn life. They'd decided to wait until the divorce was filed and kept it their little secret, her and Anita. It would have been biologically his and Anita's, but only blood and chemistry. Everything else would have been them, their child. With Regina's influence as mayor and her money, Anita's husband wouldn't have been able to touch her or their children. That child had died the night her lover told her abusive husband she wanted to be her partner. She hadn't known Anita's plan or she'd have damn well been there, but now everything was dead, including her heart… or so she'd thought. Emma's energy spread a soothing balm over the dry, shriveled organ, smoothing the roughened razorblade edges and mending the cracks in the desert soil with a thundering, wrecking ball sort of rain.

The pictures fluttered to the hardwood.

Without a second thought, the kitchen appeared before her, and she never looked back.


	8. Maybe

Enjoy, my lovelies and wish me luck today. I'm heading off to take the GRE again to try and get my scores higher for when I apply to Ph.D. programs. My undergraduate adviser has not stopped hounding me about becoming a teacher again, and I'm inclined to think she might be right. She's only been pushing the subject for 4 years now. She wouldn't have kept contact with me for so long if she didn't believe in me, so… here's to the mentors who won't let you quit. The song choice for this chapter has so much double meaning with the one-year anniversary of leaving the love of my life last week and the one of losing my student coming up next week. Teachers, pay attention to your students. You never know when you might lose them to depression.

It's been a helluva year. Thank you, to all of you, who have stuck with my stories and continue to support this endeavor that brings me so much joy. I really love concocting these tales for you.

Enjoy!

I can Still Feel You By Collin Raye

* * *

"Ruby, what's wrong?" Emma mumbled. She finally felt warm and semi-normal, partially due to the girl who had curled against her side hours ago and fell asleep while she lay wide awake and watched the snow fall. Now, in the stillness of night, her young friend cracked and spilled her pain in the form of tears instead of blood. It was progress. Emma rubbed at her dry, tired eyes that still refused to sleep and hugged Ruby's quivering body against her side with the other.

"Rubes?" Still, the girl cried quietly, unwilling or unable to answer the question, so Emma waited until she'd cried herself out and then some. If she were honest, she secretly wished that Ruby had crawled into bed with Granny because she felt like being alone still. They'd come for her. She'd expected nothing from these people, and they blew her away with their kindness and concern, for her as well as her child. They liked her. She'd been inducted into the Storybrooke family, and they'd come for her – everyone but Regina. Turns out, she was the person Emma expected in the sea of faces, and that disappointment sat on her chest, unmoving, expanding and contracting with each breath. It felt like grief, dull and cumbersome until it flared into an emotional conflagration.

"My whole life is a lie," finally brushed into the darkness. Glimmering brown eyes lifted, illuminated only by the streetlamp below their window.

"Whose isn't? Nobody even knows my real name."

"Are you okay, Emma? I mean, you're warm enough and stuff?" Emma nodded. "You scared us. I know you're used to being alone, but you have people who care about you now. Even Regina came to see you."

"What? Why didn't she come up?" If Emma seemed surprised, she never showed it to Ruby.

The girl rested her head on Emma's shoulder again and loosed a ragged breath, controlling emotions to the best of her ability. "Granny wouldn't let her see you, like she wouldn't let her see me."

"What?"

"After my mom died, Granny wouldn't let her see me. I overheard them arguing in the diner tonight. She lied to me about everything. Regina stayed away because I guess she thought it was best for me." She'd heard many tones from Ruby in the past month, but this moment marked the first thread of bitterness. She was a child, fragile, but only because people made her that way. A strength emanated from the wounded teen that night, something she'd obviously found in herself. It still felt sweet and kind, not jaded like Emma's, but something took hold of her and refused to let go.

"Why would she do that? How could that be better after everything that happened? I'm sure Granny had a reason." Emma's mind scrambled to absorb the influx of new information.

"I think… I think my mom and Regina had an affair," Ruby continued, but Emma's mind gave up on understanding anything beyond that. No wonder Regina clawed at anyone who attempted to get close to her. The soft hum of Ruby's voice ceased, and Emma glanced down at her watery brown eyes. It didn't matter what she'd said; her pain glowed, and Ruby allowed it to be seen, standing stalwart in the maelstrom of years-old emotion. Emma wrapped her up in another tight hug, pressed lips to her forehead, and waited for sleep to take her.

"I saw them kiss once. They thought I was asleep on the couch," Ruby confessed in that same steady voice.

"Didn't you think that was weird? You must have been pretty young."

"Yeah, but I didn't care. The only person who made her smile like that was Regina. Regina used to smile a lot, believe it or not." Emma felt the girl's cheek move against her shoulder, a smile perhaps. "She's been fighting for me. I just didn't know it until now. It makes sense. I mean, someone is paying for my therapy sessions. I know they're not cheap, and Granny couldn't afford them. And, for my birthday and Christmas, there's always something there I really want that I know we don't have the money for, too. And Regina always schedules all of her lunch meetings at the diner instead of the café across town. That's much more her style than greasy burgers, but she's always around. I thought she did it to get on Granny's nerves at first, but now… She just waited until I started hating her so that she could stay away while being there all at the same time. She called me her daughter tonight."

Emma grinned down at the goofy euphoria eclipsing her friend. She just wanted to be loved by the women she looked up to despite their mistakes. She was going to be fine, in spite of this new blow to her identity. Another long silence passed. Ruby's breathing evened, quieted. Her body relaxed and finally rolled away from the death grip she'd had on her friend for the past few hours. Poor kid needed so much more than therapy, but Emma passed that torch to a good night's sleep for her friend and slipped out of the bed. Ruby barely moved while she dressed.

"Emma," a sleepy voice called when she opened the door, and Emma glanced over her shoulder to find two sleepy brown eyes watching her, unconcerned. Ruby had no intention of persuading her to stay inside and out of the cold. "I think Regina would fight for you, too, if you let her. You don't have to be alone anymore, Emma. You and your baby are family now."

"Go to sleep, Ruby. You have school tomorrow."

"Will you help her, Emma? Regina, I mean."

"I'm gonna try," Emma whispered, more surprised than Ruby by the conviction in her quiet decree. Obviously, Ruby had already raised her to a pedestal of heroism and selflessness she never thought herself capable of achieving.

The girl nodded and nuzzled into the pillow. Emma watched until her breath evened out again, fighting against the emotions taking root in her soul. It started with Ruby, and then Granny. Regina intrigued her at first and getting under the woman's skin was funny but she cared now, and her conscience nagged at her to go. Regina probably had drunk herself to sleep by that hour, but someone needed to be there when she woke. She already felt weak and exhausted from her stint in the woods earlier, but she braved the freezing winds and molecules of biting snow, hating everything as she turned onto Mifflin Street and directly into a gale-force gust of frigid hell. Her frozen, burning hands barely stayed steady enough to pick the locks and enter the override code. Every light in the Mills mansion glowed, a beacon in the dead of night.

"Regina?" No response. She slid out of her jacket and slipped off her shoes and set them off to the side. Glossy photo paper glinted, and she knelt on one knee to reach them around her massive belly. One was old and worn with a crease on one side, like it'd been held by a strap. The name A. Jackson had been hidden beneath the indentation. The other two depicted identical sonogram pictures with E. Swan at the top and a little arrow that proudly displayed "boy" in the middle.

Movement at the top of the stairs drew her attention. Regina wobbled but hadn't drunk herself completely immobile yet. Her skirt hung crooked on her hips, camisole untucked beneath an unbuttoned blouse. Completely toasted, yes, but standing. No anger met the uninvited entry to her home. No fire sparked in those caramel eyes, no irritation at her presence. Nothing moved within the broken mayor. Regina looked defeated.

"I'm having a boy?" Emma managed, not sure what else could have possibly broken the stalemate staring contest. The mayor nodded. "Who is A. Jackson?" She asked immediately, ignoring the swell of emotions she'd desperately avoided by remaining ignorant to the details of her child's life.

"A ghost," Regina answered cryptically and finished the drink in her hand. She turned from Emma, stumbled to the side and caught herself on the wall, and then disappeared into the living room. Emma locked the door and followed. Regina hadn't asked her to leave yet.

A decanter of amber liquid set at the corner of an open photo album. Regina refilled her glass. Emma calculated the time stamp at the bottom of the pictures; Ruby would have been seven at the time, almost three years before her mother died. A much younger Regina and Ruby stared up at her from slightly grainy photos, but the current Regina made no move to hide the memories as she lounged back on sofa and sipped her drink. Emma sat near her knee at the edge of the cushion and studied the pictures. In one of them, Regina's arm held the waist of a much taller woman who touched the back of her neck and nuzzled her temple. Two smiles of people in love touched their lips. The one next to it showed Regina and the woman in the same clothes. Regina stood behind a tiny Ruby, hands on her shoulders, while the young child and the other woman blew out candles on a birthday cake that read, "Happy Birthday, Anita!" in big purple letters.

"Anita," Emma whispered and glanced back at the blurry sonogram picture in her hand. "She was Ruby's mother. It's true, then? You were in love with her?"

"We made love that night, for the first time. He stayed in Camden because of an early court date the next morning. He missed her birthday, so I stayed to keep her company. I never imagined she might love me back," Regina confessed, and Emma wondered if she actually knew what she was doing. Alcohol revealed people, it didn't cover it up, not like Regina's many masks.

"I'm so sorry, Regina. I can't imagine losing someone like that."

Regina laughed, a hollow ugly sound that made Emma flinch as it crawled up her spine. "Every woman I've ever loved has behaved exactly like you. Wild and unpredictable. I think I envied their freedom." Well, that was a bash over the head with a tire iron compared to Regina's odd, subtle intimacy she'd shared that morning. A warm hand rubbed the length of her bicep, and Emma's eyes whipped over her shoulder to Regina's. The woman only grinned and sipped, never breaking eye contact.

"You're drunk," Emma reminded her, not quite sure how to respond to the attention.

"Impeccable deduction, Miss Swan."

Emma no longer questioned Regina's need for the escape. She stayed for her family and destroyed herself with memories Storybrooke invoked. Green eyes fell to the sonogram again. The date shown was too new to have been Ruby, but it fit a different timeline. "She was pregnant when she was murdered, wasn't she?"

Regina stared into the thin layer of amber liquid coating the bottom of the glass. So long, she stared Emma thought she'd not heard her or refused to answer the question to which Emma already knew the answer. Green eyes shifted to the spread of happy memories that now haunted their possessor.

"I didn't know she intended to leave him that night," Regina murmured. She'd not meant to say a word, but someone needed to know. Someone needed to remember the life she'd lost, someone who wasn't her. Keeping the secret killed her slowly, but she had no reason yet to die. "For two years, I kissed her goodnight and watched her leave my apartment without knowing how he'd hurt her until the next day when she'd come back after he went to work. Ruby spent nights at a time with me because he wanted a romantic weekend, and I had no choice but to stay silent and imagine a thousand different ways he violated her. It was supposed to change when I became mayor. I finally had the power to match my money to help her escape."

"Why couldn't she leave before then?"

"Because he was one of the top practicing defense attorneys in Camden – The Wolf. It's why we never revealed she was pregnant with his second child. Keeping Ruby with us would have been hard enough. He would have taken custody and shipped her to a boarding school before we even said goodbye." She rubbed her eyes with a thumb and forefinger, snapping back to reality. "Granny mustn't know. I've already hurt her enough, and knowing she'd lost a grandchild and a daughter at the same time would be too much."

"I won't say anything," Emma reassured her, maintaining the trust that kept the line of communication intact. "If you do one thing for me." Regina rolled her eyes and tipped the glass into her mouth. "Stop drinking," Emma practically begged.

"I did," Regina spat and wiggled around Emma's bulk to stand. "But you ran off to the woods and reminded me of everything I wanted to forget."

Emma observed her tight shoulders as she wobbled to the unlit fireplace and set her glass on the mantle. "You don't get to blame this on me, Regina. I didn't mean to get lost in the woods, and even if I did, I'm not the one who took her from you." Emma tried to be mad, tried to throw up a wall between them, but her voice only sounded tender, like she spoke to a child.

"I know," Regina breathed and wrapped her arms around her ribs, the physical representation of holding it together. Her head bowed to the photographs too small to see across the room, but she knew every one of them to be a happy scene, a wonderful memory.

"Regina, I'm not her."

"I know," the mayor breathed, her voice so small that Emma read her lips to hear the words. Regina snorted, an endearing smile tugging at her lips. "In the five years I knew her, she never once flinched. She fought back every single time. He couldn't break her, so he killed her." Glassy caramel eyes met stormy green. A crackle of static snapped between them. The real Regina stood before her, not the distorted image presented to the public who knew so little of her inner life. Now that Emma peeled back those layers, she didn't know what to do with the raw human being she found beneath. Cracking Regina open wasn't a game, but she'd played her perfectly.

"You've never been broken, have you, Miss Swan?"

"My life is a fucking disaster."

"And yet, here you are, saving everyone else. You ran instead of standing up to your abuser, which takes a different type of strength. You, perhaps of all of us, have most reason to lament your miserable existence, but I've not once heard you utter a word in defeat or take for granted one single moment." Regina fell into the cushion beside her charge. Emma sat perfectly still, holding her breath. A warm hand touched her still-chilled cheek, the other tucking wild blonde hair behind an ear. "How can you affect me so much in three weeks when others have failed for years?"

"Regina," came a hoarse, wavering response. "You're drunk."

"May I show you something?" Emma nodded and allowed Regina to haphazardly pull her to her feet. The mayor clutched at her hand the entire trip up the grand staircase and across the balcony to a closed room. Emma sneezed before Regina hit the light switch from the dust and must that assaulted her sensitive nose. Pregnancy did weird things to her.

A glance at Regina found the mayor with watery eyes from the pure emotion the sight invoked. A twin bed with a Princess Belle comforter, filled bookshelves with many titles Emma had seen in Ruby's room, stuffed animals and toys, a small desk with pink and blue stationary. Several small cans of paint sat in the corner. No doubt, this was meant to be Ruby's room, and they'd intended to let her pick the color of her walls. This room served as a time capsule from the life Regina never had – a tomb for her happiness.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Don't give your son over to adoption."

Emma recoiled from the unexpected request. "It's not like I can take care of it. Trust me, it's better off. At least it will get fed."

"Your heart will be as pitiful as this room left untouched for five years in wait of a girl who will never see it. Do not allow your situation to destroy your heart. Don't wait to love those who mean the most to you because you'll lose them faster than you ever believed possible. I can barely walk upstairs in my own home, much less sleep in my own bedroom."

"Regina, my life… I've done things that…" Her heart tried to explain, she wanted Regina to understand. She wanted someone to understand, to know what she'd done, who she was.

"What if I extended our deal beyond the election? I have more than enough room and money to support the both of you until you've figured out what you'd like to do with your life. You might go to college or a trade school."

"Why would you do that?"

Burnt caramel flickered over the untouched room. "No matter what she's done, no mother should be separated from her child if she wants to care for him." She dropped the hand that still held Emma's and clasped both in front of her hips. "I'll not touch you, Miss Swan, or ask anything of you that you do not want. I simply wish to help."

"Regina, I'm gay. You touching me is definitely not the issue here," Emma sniped and swept a trembling hand over her face. It smelled sweetly of Regina's lotion, and she dropped it to her side in defeat. Coming to Regina in this state had been a bad idea.

"You're pregnant." Confusion in the drunken haze shone brightly. Particles of a whole truth danced behind those glazed caramel eyes.

"Yeah, funny how that happens." Arms crossed, Emma wished she still had the ability to cock her hip to the side in a show of sassy defiance.

"You're safe here, Miss Swan," Regina whispered. She saw. She understood, and the compassion the alcohol permitted her to display unnerved Emma to the core. She hadn't deserved it. Her own decisions led to her current state, and nothing Regina said or did changed that.

Something in Emma snapped and rebelled. "You have multiple personalities, don't you? Is this Saint Regina, patron of wayward mothers?" It contained far more levity than she'd intended but steered the conversation away from unwanted topics all the same.

Regina cracked a smile, tiny but still visible. She'd been called many names, but saint was new. "My motives are not completely altruistic. Your presence is changing things, Miss Swan, and I believe in time and with your help, I might reclaim a relationship with my child. If not, I can at least find peace in the fact she's found a friend upon which to cast her burdens. You came to Storybrooke because you thought it would be a wonderful place for your child to be reared. Let me make that a reality for you. I've been searching for a reason to live for so long that I nearly dismissed you before I realized the opportunities you created for me, personally and professionally. I've no reason to die, but I have nothing to live for, either."

"I can't be your reason to live. I've been alone my entire life, and I'm selfish. I won't stay here long enough to make a difference." Had everyone in Storybrooke lost their damn minds? She wasn't a hero or a saint or a selfless person.

"Emma, you're kindness has touched many."

"Well, it doesn't cost anything to be nice to people, so I can afford to be kind," Emma snapped. Regina saw her, not the façade, not Emma Swan, not a broke and pregnant runaway. She just saw Emma. No one had humanized her in this way before, and her instincts told her to flee before it trapped her.

"You've already made a difference," Regina continued, oblivious to the inner turmoil. "Granny and Ruby take in a lot of strays, but I've never seen them accept anyone into their hearts this way. You belong here, Miss Swan. Don't take the chance for a family for granted. I am living proof that everything can be lost in only a moment." Her words came slower, softer. The last glass finally pulled her towards the sleep so skillfully evasive. She looked so small now that her personality wasn't commandeering every inch of the room. Emma almost wished she forgot the conversation in the morning.

"You should go to bed," Emma suggested, quietly evading emotions and questions she refused to acknowledge.

Regina nodded and darkened the room, closed the door silently, reverently. With a little maneuvering, she guided Regina down the stairs and onto the sofa. She found a blanket in a closet off the foyer and laid it gingerly over the slumbering mayor. The moment she turned to leave, though, strong fingers dug into her forearm. "Will you stay with me?"

"Yeah," Emma whispered and adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. She found another blanket and settled into the love seat across the room with the T.V. remote.

Her mind wandered back to the photos still smiling up at her on the coffee table. She knew she shouldn't look at them, at Regina's private hell and most cherished moments. The next page showed her a photo of Granny with a hand on her hip smiling at Regina who sat cross-legged on the floor with Ruby playing with what looked like a mouse or a hamster. Ruby had a pet mouse? Emma smiled. On the same page, Regina and Anita gazed at each other. Regina held a bottle of red wine between them, but Anita's hand covered her glass. Emma imagined that Regina tried to get her best friend drunk for her birthday, and probably succeeded if the outcome of that evening indicated anything. On the opposite page, Regina sat on a sofa and held a sleepy Ruby in her lap, a book open between them while Granny cleaned the kitchen in the background. And then one of the mayor laying the slumbering girl in her bed. That photo ended the recounting of the birthday celebration, and the next page started a new story when Emma flipped it. A similar theme emerged despite the drastic change of scenery. The time stamp indicated that nearly a month passed after the birthday party.

A sunny day melted into existence around the cold living room. Regina wore jeans, a t-shirt, and sturdy boots, a tiny Ruby getting a piggy-back ride through a forest trail. They'd gone hiking, Emma speculated. The pictured showed Regina glancing over her shoulder at Ruby, probably answering the millionth question she'd asked that day. Gone were the harsh lines of grief the woman slumbering to her left wore, even in sleep. Life lit up her eyes, nothing like the calculated glares and hard observations Regina usually wore. At some point during the hiking trip, Ruby commandeered the camera and a series of blurry, unfocused shots of Regina and Anita followed. Having lunch on a rock overlooking the mountain scenery from a high vantage point. Regina wearing the most beautiful smile Emma had ever seen, even dripping wet in her jeans and sticking shirt. Anita was doubled over in laughter, obviously, she'd pushed Regina into the deep pool of clear water. Emma flipped, and the next page showed Anita reaching down to help Regina up and getting pulled in head first. The photos of that day stopped there, so Ruby probably jumped in after her mothers.

Emma rubbed her stinging eyes with a thumb and forefinger. Ruby said that Regina used to smile a lot. A deep, silent sigh oved her chest as her eyes wandered to the tortured woman now sleeping off her drunken stupor yet again. Regina deserved to be that happy again, so did Ruby and Granny. They'd accepted her into their family with open arms and no judgements, and if she helped alleviate that empty space where Anita used to be, then she owed it to them to try and fill it. She picked up the sonogram pictures and tucked them into the one of the pages of the album, closing it on the beautiful smiles taunting her.

Maybe she also deserved to be that happy. She'd never had a family before, no photographic evidence that she'd existed. Maybe she deserved that. Maybe she deserved to exist, to live. Maybe she deserved to have a home. Emma leaned back on the love seat and flipped through the channels again, finally settling for the one thing she and Regina shared in common. Somewhere between the late night marathon of The Golden Girls and the early morning showing of the 700 Club, she drifted off to a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Maybe she deserved to stay.


	9. Need

Enjoy, my pretties.

Only You by Delilah

* * *

Laughter?

Emma rolled onto her side and groaned as her back popped and protested. If this damn kid didn't decide to exit her womb soon, she swore to reach up in there and rip it out herself. Him, rip him out. Green eyes flew open, wide awake when the previous night slammed into her with the entire force of an imperial army. She expected Regina to still slumber a few feet from her but only found a crumpled blanket and an empty room. A quick aural scan of the house placed the mayor in the kitchen, along with another female voice, quiet laughter and the sound of metal scraping metal. What the hell?

Emma waddled into the foyer, stiffer than she wanted to admit. Was every mother this miserable or just her? Maybe the cold worsened all of her aches and pains. Probably not the wisest choice to keep walking everywhere in the low temperatures, especially when ice threatened her balance. The internal grumblings stopped abruptly when she reached the kitchen door. Regina stood at the stove, still dressed in the same rumpled clothing she'd worn to sleep the previous night, and held Ruby about the shoulders while the girl concentrated on something in a skillet. Flour streaked her young face but barely concealed the color of her cheeks and eyes. Ruby looked happy, so did Regina.

"Now, lift up an edge. See that nice golden brown color?" Ruby nodded. "Now slide the spatula in as far as possible." Regina switched sides and wrapped her hand around Ruby's. They flipped the pancake successfully and smiled at each other – Ruby so tiny that even the short mayor looked down at her. "Now, we allow the other side to brown. Should only take a moment."

"So, you can't really time them because the heat's different on every stove and skillet?" Regina nodded and squeezed her shoulder, keeping the girl tucked against her as much as possible.

Emma cleared her throat and pretended not to have seen the tender moment. "Glad to see your head doesn't hurt too much this morning."

"Hey Emma," Ruby greeted but kept a vigilant eye on the pancake.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"We're making pancakes. Regina says you can have a small one if you promise to eat your fruit without a fuss." Emma chuckled. Of course, she'd said that.

"Miss Lucas will arrive on time," Regina assured her, a clipped annoyance in her voice. Emma smiled, and Regina returned it for only a moment before throwing all of her attention at the younger girl. She kept herself distanced by using Ruby's last name, but that edgy energy she always carried stayed far away from her tone. A special, soft voice replaced it – one she assumed completely reserved for Ruby alone.

"You work in a diner, shouldn't you know how to cook?"

The two shared another grin, and Ruby glanced over her shoulder. "Granny tried to teach me once. I caught the kitchen on fire at the diner. I haven't been near a stove since then."

"How bad was it?"

Ruby giggled and leaned into Regina who answered for the girl. "Nearly two thousand dollars in repairs and a week without operation."

"It would have been longer if you hadn't paid the contractor," Ruby tossed out with very uncharacteristic bluntness.

"I wasn't aware you knew." Regina's inner life froze, waiting for rejection that never came.

Ruby shrugged and returned her focus to the pancake. Regina rubbed her back in an 'atta-girl' encouragement. The change in the tortured woman knocked Emma off her game, and if she'd not felt like an intruder before, she certainly felt it now. Regina wasn't broken or heartless. She'd just been stripped of the only things that mattered to her – her family, her daughter. If Emma hadn't seen the two of them just two weeks prior, she'd never have believed they'd been parted or that Ruby actually hated the older woman. Now, she taught her how to cook as though she'd done it every morning since they met. Emma touched her belly subconsciously. Maybe Regina would teach her son how to cook.

She almost choked on the air halfway to her lungs and coughed to cover the sudden panic.

"I'm gonna go find a bathroom. Yell when breakfast is ready." The two other women barely acknowledged her request, and Emma slipped out of the doorway, leaving them to their reunion. She really needed to pee anyway. The freaking gremlin must have slept on her bladder or something. She finally found one upstairs third from the stairs and pranced into the lavish porcelain and silver garnish.

A laugh bubbled from somewhere deep, tickling her inside until it finally exploded from her lips, and she leaned her elbows onto her knees. Nobody knew anything about Regina, what made her tick, what made her drink. She'd lost her entire family in one night, and no one knew the truth – or at least, they refused to acknowledge it. Regina was the other woman, and as such, when the life of her lover ended, so had her involvement in the family only a few days away from moving into her home and into her protection. The whole situation seemed way too fucked up to have taken place in Storybrooke, yet it made total sense in a cliché sort of way. Small town skeletons that no one talked about surfaced eventually in the strangest of ways. In this case, her very presence caused it because she risked caring for the pariah. She'd not meant to start a revolution.

"Emma?" Ruby's small voice called from the other side of the door.

"Yeah?"

"Breakfast is ready. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, be down in a minute."

As promised, a pancake waited for Emma along with her usual fruit and eggs. Hovering near the door, she joked. "So, did you magically conjure food to your kitchen?" She tried not to feel obtrusive. Ruby had invited her, right? And Regina remained silent on the subject, so she probably had nothing to say. The heady sensation of being welcomed at a family meal warmed her chest, trembled in her fingertips, coiled in her belly. They rarely ate together at the diner and never at a table.

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Swan. The grocery store opens at six in Storybrooke," Regina clipped into coffee, raising an eyebrow as she sipped. "Do you intend to lurk in doorways or join us?"

"I'm not really hungry." Not exactly a lie. She'd probably have puked all over them if she attempted to top the knot in her belly with food. "I'm gonna watch tv." She retreated to the living room and flipped on the noise box, something to cover the soft voices floating from the small table in the kitchen. Nestled beneath a blanket that smelled like Regina's perfume, she closed her eyes and willed the dangerous thoughts from her mind. She never belonged here, despite the statements otherwise by the inhabitants of Storybrooke.

"Miss Swan?" Regina stepped into the living room fully dressed in a clean, pressed pant suit. A black and white vest with white stripes on the lapels flattered her form while also concealing it, all about perspective with that outfit. It told her that she'd probably dozed off again. "Emma, are you alright?"

First name basis, that was new. "I think I'm just tired. Almost freezing to death has that effect on a person, I guess."

Regina nodded once. "Of course, stay as long as you'd like. I must see Miss Lucas to school and attend a meeting, presently."

"So, I can't break into your house but you trust me alone in it?"

"After last night, not many secrets remain to discover. Try not to break anything," she added, covering the brief display of emotion. Regina hadn't forgotten anything her drunken self had said or done, but she refused to talk about it, at least in front of Ruby.

"I would never," Emma assure in a very un-assuring tone. Regina rolled her eyes and clicked away in insanely high heels attached to what was supposed to be winter boots. "Ya know, it's okay if people know you're short. It's better than busting your ass on ice."

No response from the mayor, but Ruby appeared in the doorway grinning. Unlike either of them, she wore her emotions for the world to see and use as it saw fit. "You okay, Em? I don't think I've ever seen you skip a meal." Her thin body perched at the edge of the sofa near her knee. Without her cape, Ruby looked so frail, so tiny.

"I could say the same about you. Don't think I've ever seen you finish a meal." The light words carried a weight that stooped the girl's shoulders.

"Granny was pissed when she found out you'd come to Regina's last night." A small hand touched her belly, searching for the unborn life that normally greeted her each morning. "Where is it?"

"He," Emma whispered.

A possessed energy slowly eclipsed her face until a smile appeared, wide and beautiful and enchanting. Damn, if Ruby's mother smiled like that, no wonder Regina fell so hard. She giggled and flung her weight at Emma's chest. She may as well been a whale because her swollen breasts twitched and protested the hug with the voracity of a torture victim.

"Rubes, my tits would like to breathe."

"Oh, right, sorry." She scrambled away but immediately wrapped herself around the protruding bump of life. "Hey, little guy." A tiny fist or foot bumped her cheek, and that stunning smile appeared again.

Emma almost shifted away, stayed to spare Ruby's feelings. She hated that she cared about Ruby's tender heart. She hated that Ruby cared about her, needed her as a friend and pillar of support. Attachments weighed her down, made her slow and weak when she needed to move, to flee. "So, how pissed is Granny that you're here?"

"She doesn't know." She would soon, though; the guilt in Ruby's voice ensured that. But, that same quiet strength from the previous night surfaced. When Ruby found her footing, she'd be a force in Storybrooke. "I'm mad at her."

Emma barely caught the laughter the petulant statement inspired and grinned down at the girl. Caramel eyes in the doorway caught her attention instead. Something there excited her heart into a war drum, thundering the impending battle into her ears. She read Regina well, but this… not this. It was tender and fierce and impassioned and muted all at the same time. Whatever Regina felt, she directed it at her but kept it close to her heart. That look reminded Emma that like Ruby, she'd become far too attached to the tortured mayor and her small, cliché town.

"Emma?" Ruby raised her head, concerned.

"What?"

"You're hyperventilating. Are you okay?" Green eyes glanced to an empty doorway. Ruby's gaze followed, finding nothing as the cause of Emma's sudden panic. "Should I get Regina?"

"No!" Ruby jumped, wide brown eyes shocked by the loud, harsh tone. Emma didn't yell at people, especially her. "Sorry, no. I'm fine," she amended quickly, soothing the fear in the other girl's eyes.

"Miss Swan," Regina called as she clicked around the corner. No trace of the emotion that slipped out only a few moments before remained in her eyes that now studied her phone. Her business suit became her suit of armor, shielding her from the people who couldn't love her. "Ms. Cochran has reminded me of an appearance I must make today at the orchard. Can you accompany me?"

Ruby pushed off Emma, her quiet energy both soothing and awkward at the same time. She'd forgotten, Emma realized. For one moment, she'd forgotten who Regina was and where they were and the sad situation of their lives together up to the point. The closed album on the coffee table taunted them, Regina at least. They might come back together, but they'd never be the same. Too many scars marred their souls to ever whole again, complete and peaceful in their reunion. And for just one second, Ruby had forgotten that. Emma's heart reached for the girl, but she silently dismissed herself to the foyer. Regina's caramel eyes remained lowered but followed the miserable girl they'd both come to love. "I'll get my cape," she murmured as she passed the mother she'd almost had.

"Since when do you ask?" Emma tossed, happy to get back to their usual mode of communication – sarcasm and bitchy demands that pulled them through emotionally charged moments. She needed to stay. Ruby and Regina needed her to stay. Her sanity needed her to stay. Storybrooke needed her to stay. Her child needed her to stay. Her son.

Hell, she wanted to stay.

"Since you decided to get lost in the woods and suffer from hypothermia," Regina responded, nonchalant and without raising her eyes from the text sent currently tapped to her assistant. If she noticed Emma's inner turmoil, she never raised an eyebrow in its direction.

"Yeah, what time?" Was that her voice? That softness, the vulnerability? Regina exploited weakness. She'd kicked Emma in the teeth every time she'd lowered her emotional wall, and she braced for impact.

Finally, those magnetic eyes raised to find stormy green flailing in emotional chaos. "I'll pick you up at 11:30," Regina said. Her mouth opened again. Air rushed into red lips, but no sound escaped the opposite direction. Crimson climbed her chest, flushed her cheeks. Emma watched, struck by the beauty of the flustered mayor – made stronger by the hint of a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She dared to speculate that Regina Mills looked happy.

"Thank you," Regina whispered, "for staying with me."

A surge of adrenaline constricted Emma's chest. Regina knew more than she said. She knew Emma had already decided to stay, despite the reservations that tugged at her anxiety. Emma nodded once, and Regina left without another word. Nothing else needed to be said. They both needed to be loved, accepted as they were without reservations or judgments. They needed a home, a place to belong… even if only in the presence of another person. And maybe, maybe it was okay to need someone. Regina's need made her weak unfulfilled, but she'd seen more strength in the lat few minutes than the past month she'd been in Storybrooke. Regina's attachments made her strong, her greatest source of strength and weakness. Regina understood need. She'd understood Emma's the second she'd set eyes on her. Emma had needed someone, and Regina yearned to be needed. It had given her inspiration, motivation, a reason to breathe and live. She knew her life meant something if someone depended on her, and if Emma were honest with herself, she understood the heady power of that sensation.

To be needed.

Maybe it was okay with Emma if Regina needed her as much.


End file.
